A long traverse along the right side of Shield Lake brought us to the final slopes that led us to the top of Prusik Pass.  I felt like I had a lot of energy yesterday, but this morning I felt like I was dragging a bit.  At the pass, we turned right and boulder hopped up to a spot just below the west ridge where we ditched our packs and got the gear ready for a climb of the west ridge, which loomed directly in front of us.  It looked totally inviting; I was looking forward to climbing rather than more slogging.  There was still no one else in sight as we headed off.  I realized that I’d left my helmet back at the camp.

I headed off for the first pitch and scrambled up a lot of 4th class before encountering easy 5th class climbing in the middle of the face.  Eventually, Robert started following somewhere along a long, low-angled crack right on the left side of the ridge.  This crack led up to a short strenuous move over a block that led around the corner to a nice belay spot.  The rope drag was getting bad so I threw a sling around a block and brought Robert up.

Robert started the second pitch.  This was one of the 5.7 cruxes – a committing but easy face move.  Robert scrambled over more exposed ridge to a wide ledge where he belayed me up.

I led off next, a steep pitch consisting of high quality mid-5th class climbing.  The first section is a crack in a corner that leads up to a foot-wide ledge.  One can continue climbing straight up, which would lead to an offwidth crack.  Instead, I opted to move right to a vertical flake system which led to a belay station just below the summit.  From here, the rope drag increased again.  I saw several options.  We could descend just a little and walk a thin ledge to the offwidth, or we could solo (or spot the leader) up a chimney just below the summit.  I decided to bring Robert up to show him the options.  Having climbed the route before, he saw a third:  a prominent “chicken head” which could be used to scamper up a very exposed final section of easy ridge which led to the summit.  We chose this option – top notch!

We climbed the route pretty fast and spent a relatively long time lounging around on the summit before finally beginning the descent.  We’d looked at the Temple Ridge traverse but both quickly admitted that we didn’t “smell the summit”.  I’m glad we didn’t; just hanging it out and taking it easy was much more appealing.

Returning to camp, I discovered that the leather netting in my helmet had been chewed up.  Not sure who the culprit was.  Either a marmot or a goat.  Ah well, that helmet served me well over the years.  It was the first I’d bought and I guess I can retire it now.  There were also suddenly a lot of people wanting to climb Prusik Peak.

We descended down passing Gnome Lake where I snapped the classic view of Prusik Peak, undeniably one of the great views in the state of Washington.  Beyond this we made our way down to the creek along a paradise of smooth granite.  We took a long break here, lying in the sun.

We started the long hike down making one last significant stop at Vivian Lake where we ate for the last time.  A ranger passed along the trail below us but didn’t ask us for our permits.  The rest of the hike out in the Enchantments was genuinely enchanting, truly one of the unique spots in Washington.  Waterfalls cascaded from high granite perches, the sky was a deep blue, and the occasional mountain goat punctuated the perfect balance of the area. Below “Trauma Ridge” though, the hike becomes a long long slog through the forest.  We put on the iPods to pass the miles more quickly.  At least we weren’t hiking out in darkness or anything.  I couldn’t believe how quickly we were losing elevation and we still had such a long way to go.  It was pretty interesting seeing the aqueduct from Snow Lakes to Nada Lake in action.  It’s a massive jet of water that forms a huge rainbow.  Check out this shot:

We arrived back at the car just before 7pm.  We then headed to the hamburger joint in Cashmere, Rusty’s, and returned with the food to Robert’s cabin where we kicked back, ate, and drank.  Great trip, homes!

Total trip stats:  20 Miles, 8500 Feet of Elevation

The first part of the Snow Creek trail always seems to go fast.  “Wow, we’re already past Snow Creek Wall.”  Maybe the high altitude of Colorado made me appreciate the oxygen, or maybe it was the large quantity of Thai food serving as fuel, but I was feeling good.  Somewhere around a campsite that was just before a set of switchbacks (around 3200 feet), we left the trail and crossed Snow Creek aiming for the left side of a prominent talus patch to the south of Toketie Creek.  We crossed some semi-sketchy bouncy downed tree crossings across the creek, or above a dangerous pit of strewn broken trees.  Eventually, we were in the talus field, consisting of mostly very large boulders.  We eventually found cairns and followed them as best we could until we found a dusty trail that went up and up and up always exposed to the hot sun.

After the trail finally relented some, we took a break, consulted the map, and then figured out the next part of the trail:  a wide, steep slope of granite, a little brush and burned trees from the Rat Creek Fires.  After we crested this slope, we were finally in the high country around Toketie Lake.  We’d already lost and found the trail about ten times on the way up, and we probably lost and found it ten more times before arriving at Toketie Pass, just south and a little west of the Edwardian Plateau.  There’s a tarn here created from snow melt where we decided to camp.

We packed up for a quick trip to the Mole, one of those rare summits that would be fun to tick off.  The hike up to the plateau went quick, more hopping over boulders and a rough trail.  Up on the plateau the trail vanished as we traveled through larch forest, then to a burn zone, and then to a small sandy desert.  The Mole was just over the western edge.  Getting to it was a bit of a pain…a steep sandy descent and a slippery sandy gully between it and the Duolith.  I kinda wish we would have started the climb lower down, some of the cracks looked good, but we found the official started and roped up.  Robert took the first pitch and headed off.  This first pitch was good, with a solid fun 5.7 section right off the bat.  Robert then traversed around a tree and up over some boulders, along a ledge, then up a small set of cracks.  He belayed from there.

I think we may have gotten off route here and Robert opted to head out again in order to “make it right”.  After realizing that a squeeze between the wall and a large boulder wouldn’t go, he down climbed about fifteen feet to a deep notch with an overhanging crack.  Having already used some pro that would have been perfect for the crack, he opted for a balancy traverse that gained the notch above the crack.  I followed, climbing the crack directly, finding it harder than 5.7, I’d call it 5.9.  Above this, a steep flake system requiring liebacks led to where Robert was belaying on the ridge.  I led out from here placing like two pieces on easy terrain that led to the summit.  On top of the Mole, the Icicle looked far away, a totally miserable way to approach the Mole – I’m sure no one is dumb enough to approach from that direction.

We headed back down to our camp.  This spot was great.  The tarn had been warmed by the sun so cleanin’ up wasn’t a miserably cold experience.  Also, there are tons of places to sleep on either dirt or granite.  We picked the dirt for the extra layer of soft comfort it provided.  The moon wasn’t out tonight, or was just hanging out behind a ridge somewhere, and the stars were out in spades.

We left Seattle on Saturday at 11am where we cragged on Castle Rock before heading to an outstanding German meal in Leavenworth.  Later on, we turned in at our secret spot near the Colchuck Lake trailhead.  I shut my eyes while the sun was still up to the white noise of nearby creek.  The next thing I remember was Michael saying, “Hey Theron, it’s 4:15!”

It seems like every time we’ve gone up this trail, we’ve been in bad weather:  Argonaut, Stuart Glaicer Couloir, and Dragontail.  This morning, as was on Dragontail, was bright and clear.  We made quick time up the trail arriving at the lake somewhere after an hour or two.  The only hiking I’d done all year was one time a week or two ago up Mount Si.  I could certainly tell I wasn’t as fast as normal and Michael was consistently ahead of me.  Beyond the lake, we saw we had a slog up talus (at least it wasn’t thinly veiled in snow) before we reached the glacier.

At the top of the talus, we stopped for food, talk, and video.  The route, lying in plain view in front of us, looked great -- the rock, especially solid.  We set off again up the glacier and soon arrived at the base of the Kearney description of the route.  There was a nasty looking moat barring the way though.  I saw a potential snow bridge to cross; Michael headed up a little looking for a spot to cross, eventually conceding that this route wasn’t possible.  Instead, we headed up the left side of the buttress looking for a spot, passing one that afforded an an easy pass but had smooth slabs above it.  We eventually settled on a much steeper section festooned with solid looking cracks.

Michael led off on the first pitch -- a rather stiff 5.8 crack climb on golden granite that was thankfully solid and a lot of fun.  I then led out along a wide and loose ledge to another section of golden (Michael later confirmed it was pink -- a color I have a hard time seeing) granite.  It looked so easy but as I started up, sections of the right side just started pulling off like potato chips.  This section was awful and was obviously the section that the Beckey route warned about.  After trying a little more, I began to realize this was a foolhardy endeavor and carefully backed down.  OK, I’ll take hard 5.9 any day over that scary loose 5.0 stuff.  This section is distinct from below -- a large swath of the lightest color of rock near the base.

After that jolt, Michael opted to lead the next pitch up some hard-to-protect slabs and then through a goofy chimney (was this the chimney?), up another ramp, and over a hard boulder move (until you saw the trick) that gained another ridge.  We simul-climbed again along a wide ledge past some snow.  The route became a little confusing again along some smooth but solid golden granite.  At this point, we were directly above the loose section.  Michael opted to downclimb around a tree and then emerged onto another ledge at the base of a vertical but solid looking chimney.

It was my turn to head out.  This was most likely the 5.3 Beckey chimney.  It turned out to be a super quality pitch, and except for some minor looseness again on the right side, was very solid and enjoyable.  The holds were right where you needed them to be.  I would have rated this section a 5.4 with one 5.6 move.

“Michael, this pitch is great!”, I shouted.

“Well keep going then!  Let’s simul-climb and make up some time.”

“OK!”  So, I unclipped from the slings thrown around the base of a tree at the top of the chimney.  I made a 5.6 move to get up into a crack that traversed rightward the smooth face.  If that chimney was good, then this was even better -  an easy climb on an exposed face in a grand alpine setting.  OK, the climb was finally starting to turn quality, we both later confessed to thinking.

I ran out of slings at the large ramp that traversed left up the buttress.  Heck, it looked easy; let’s keep going!  The Beckey description talked about following the ledge 160 feet to it’s end at the base of a twin cracks pitch.  We did stop somewhere around here after rope drag prevented any more creative gear placements.  We stopped at a perfect place for lunch and admired Dragontail in the distance.  Serpentine Arete, which we’d climbed the year before, looked menacing.  Wow, and this was harder, at least for route-finding.

In retrospect, maybe this was the spot where we were supposed to pick up the twin cracks, but the description also said to go to the ramps end.  Michael led off and by the time we were at the “end”, we must have gone a full 300 feet or more.  At this point we started climbing up the “cosmic slabs” which featured some tough climbing.  Good thing Michael was leading; I would have opted to bail and try an area that looked a little easier below.  Michael plugged doggedly ahead and after some debate, he brought me up.  The climbing was nice and easy at first but it required some 5.9 face climbing to arrive at the two-nut belay on a tiny slanting ledge.

From there I spied a potential route to go up.  I didn’t have my nerves with me at this point and happily suggested that Michael should go.  I did see a way that looked like it would go at maybe 5.8 or 5.9 again.  At least, that’s as hard as I remembered it looking.  When Michael said, “Ok, that was 5.11″, I remember thinking, “Oh great!”  On following, I found it quite hard as well though I somewhat mockingly downgraded it to 5.10c.  It was quite a delicate move though that I accomplished by pressing hard into a tiny corner while carefully shifting my hand positions upward.  Soon enough, it was over and I was in the steep crack.  Oh thankfully some hand jams!  “Would I have said that last year?”, I asked myself.  Nope, probably not.  The jams were only occasionally good as the crack varied in depth.  Still, if the hand jams weren’t there, the foot jams were and the crack felt like a pleasure after the hard face climbing.  At another marginal belay, Michael sent me off to continue the crack, which was now easier though still steep and exposed.  The protection was good though and I got up a full rope length to another tree belay where we swung the lead again.  Michael led us over more moderate terrain to the ridge crest.

Michael led out on the easy ridge.  To the right was the throat of a steep and scary couloir; and the left was a sheer drop straight down to the glacier.  Great exposure gave this pitch a its deserved exhilaration.  We continued simul-climbing and began traversing beneath the steep walls under the summit.  At this point, we were perhaps only 200 or 300 feet below the summit but the way was still convoluted.  Michael headed around a corner out of sight.  Not liking what he saw, I was able to persuade him to downclimb and continue down to a grassy ledge.  Would this way go?  At the base, Michael answered “yes”.  Whew!  So, I carefully downclimbed the steep and awkward pitch and headed out.  After negotiating another off-balance downclimb by jamming my feet in ice and kicking steeps in snow, I headed off horizontally on slick mossy rocks.  At the base of another ledge with a large snowdrift, I set up a belay and started to despair.  “Arr, no more hard pitches, please!”, I thought.  But in front of me I saw a sheer black wall.  Though it was crisscrossed with narrow grassy ledges, it was quite smooth and was glistening black from moisture in the occasional sun breaks.  Michael talked some optimism into me (thanks!) and headed off.  After a thin move on a smooth face, he was able to gain the ledges which were, sure enough, quite easy.  We were on our way again -  a testament to positive thinking!  I led the final long simul-pitch which was easy except for 3 or 4 crux moves, some with snow and ice again and others with short moves on thin holds.  Finally, however, we topped out between the false and true summits.

If the ascent of this route was quite complicated (and it was), the descent was anything but.  We bounded down the Colchuck Glacier and down the trail arriving at the car sometime around 10pm, seventeen hours later.  We’ve started the season with a bang.

Click here to view the embedded video.

On the way out, Michael made a quick stop at Albertsons to buy food for the trip. For dinner, he had some fried chicken which he kindly shared a tasty breast. We were soon on our way up Ingalls Pass and on to Ingalls Lake where we decided to ultimately camp. We’d talked about Stuart Pass or Goat Pass, but Ingalls Lake was definitely the best with its abundant supply of water and numerous choices for camping. Actually, you’re not allowed to camp at the lake, the sites we used were on rock a hundred or two yards from the lake. Thanks to the chicken down at the car, there was no need to bring cooking gear in. We had a small dessert and turned in.

4:15 came too soon for me (as always). But we packed up quickly (the quick packing job is key for an upcoming story regarding food) and were headed out by 4:45. The morning promised to be clear and warm. In the distance, we could see Glacier Peak in the sunrise. The trail dropped us down along the edges of a meadow then brought us steeply back up to the ridge and Stuart Pass. The trip over to Goat Pass went without a hitch and we were soon getting good looks at the north ridge of Stuart. Our trip to Goat Pass had taken much shorter than we had anticipated. We stopped to take a break and as I began digging in the top of my pack I uttered a disappointed, “Uh oh.” Michael was naturally startled and instantly worried since I have been known to forget important items from time to time. “I think I left my food back at camp”, I said. So, for the rest of the day, I shared Michael’s food. Well, at least I didn’t forget rock shoes, harness, or something like that. The climb would obviously continue.

We spotted another party at the bivy site on the Stuart Glacier and some steep but easy traversing on the Stuart Glacier brought us to the friendly folk. One had climbed the ridge five times, but never the Great Gendarme. We continued past them and got to the base of the ridge and decided that we’d better try to load up on water here. We found a good stream in a moat a hundred feet up the glacier that was easily retrieved. We then traversed along the top of the moat to the snow tongue that led to the ridge. The climb up was easy; I was thankful for the nice cup steps. The rock portion was rated 4th class, but in my suspicious eyes, it felt like easy 5th class to me. Up on the ridge, around 8 in the morning, the wind greeted us. We donned rock shoes and Michael headed off for the first pitch. The plan was to simul climb for as long as we could so that we’d have plenty of time to tackle the Great Gendarme.

The first pitch started out typical enough, but not classic: Moving along blocky exposed ledges, swinging around wide corners of 3rd and 4th class terrain. The first 5.7 pitch started as an “open book” complete with small grassy ledges. “Hey, this reminds me of something like the West Face of Sloan Peak. I want to get to the good stuff”, I thought to myself. Well, above the open book, Michael belayed me up and I got a look at some nice golden granite. I headed out for my turn at the lead. The climbing was still easy, mostly 4th class, until I got to a steep step. I brought Michael around a large corner to prevent rope drag and he then belayed me up the steep section. It was much fun, maybe rated 5.7 as well, I suppose. Beyond this, I could cover lots of ground. The terrain then turned to beautiful, super-clean, gray granite. We cruised along big solid granite flakes until I ran out of slings and brought Michael up and under a short Tarzan move to lead the third simul-climbing pitch.

The third pitch was a classic, maybe the best (along with the 4th) climbing on the entire route. After a short offwidth section, the pitch became a long, steep, and exposed hand traverse. The most difficult part of the traverse only lasted for 150 feet or so then gave way to more moderate and enjoyable clean granite flakes. For the most part, the route followed the crest of the ridge and both sides fell away steeply – to the left, the Ice Cliff Glacier and to the right, the Stuart Glacier.

I don’t remember where the 3rd pitch ended and the 4th began, but the great terrain continued. The 4th pitch was the longest, I believe. At this point, I was having so much fun and feeling so confident that I was placing gear very sparsely. At the top of a tall tower, I downclimbed and arrived at the famous slab with the large crack. The slab was low angle and felt really easy. We cruised up it to the top of another tower where a downclimb brought us to the famous spot where the pictures are taken – the 5.7 hand traverse. OK, I need to place a piece of gear so I found an excellent cam placement and moved past the traverse to a delicate downclimb to a huge fractured slab that led up to the base of the Great Gendarme. I think I only had two more pieces of gear to use on this long stretch but I was able to find temporary homes for them. At the base of the gendarme, we had a bit to eat (of Michael’s food), a short rest, and then got ready for the first pitch of the Great Gendarme.

I’ve seen the first pitch of the Gendarme rated 5.8 and 5.9. Well, I thought it was pretty tough in any case! These were stiff ratings, no doubt – Index 5.8 and 5.9.  In fact, the Gendarme completely changes the nature of the climb.  I found it significantly more difficult than anything else on the lower route. The lower pitch consisted of three sections of downward trending liebacks – the kind where gravity can’t help you as much! From below, this pitch looked tough to me and I was glad to let Michael take the lead. It was definitely a strenuous move and Michael, certainly tired from the tribulations, belly flopped his way on to the belay station at the top of the pitch. I’m not a big fan of these liebacks (or offwidths) and had a pretty tough time with it – I was definitely breathing hard. I took one fall when I eagerly stood up too soon to grasp high for a solid horn at the top of the second lieback. Standing up meant my pasted feet had nothing to hold on to and just shot out from under me. OK, well at least I could dangle and rest a while. One more attempt got me to the top.

The marquis pitch of the Gendarme is the second – the offwidth pitch – arrr offwidth!!!  How about a perfect straight handrack?!?  Nope, not this time.  This pitch starts with a delicate rightward traverse off of the small belay tower.  Immediately, the exposure becomes great.  Not surprisingly, I found the offwidth challenging.  If I recall, the edges flared a little bit making a lieback difficult.  I was able to get one successful fistjam early but, being an offwidth, everything else seemed to slip away.  After a few rests, I made it over the initial 10 feet of the crack, the most difficult.  Higher up, the climbing became more reasonable, but still strenuous. We continued a long simul climb off the gendarme over easy terrain to the next 5.9 secion, a wall with a prominent offwidth in the center. Possible routes looked to be the center (the offwidth), to the left (nothing for feet), and a small crack slightly to the right. We chose the small crack. It was another hard 5.9. The crack was small and overhang a bit. I did my best to avoid another awkward crack and transformed the short crack move into a harder face climb. Michael had a good laugh.

Once on top of this, we had only a strecth of mostly 4th class terrain to the summit. There was an occasional 5th class move to keep things fun. At 3pm, we arrived at the top. “Not too bad”, we thought. We were certain we’d be back down to the car before the sun went down. How we underestimated the abject tedium of the Cascadian Couloir!  We walked the same long and tedious steps that we’d taken two months earlier when descending the summit after a climb of the Stuart Glacier Couloir. At least this time we weren’t continually punching through snow. We descended down the false summit again, following rock for as long as we could until we arrived at snow and then front pointed our way down slick snow to the base of the “couloir”. The Cascadian Couloir is a gently sloped and very broad couloir that was devoid of snow except for one patch about a third of the way down. At first, I thought the descent would just be one long slog. It turned out to be that until the trails faded and the sketchy cliffs appeared. Tedious downclimbing, too tedious to even recall here, got us down to solid grass but there was still steep descending to do, at least this time on a trail. Finally, on the Ingalls Creek trail we paused briefly, preparing for the three mile (at least) slog back up to our camp. There would be another 4+ miles after that. OK, this probably won’t be a hike out with light. Our goal was at least to get beyond the lake (the last of the tricky scrambling) before utter darkness moved in.

There’s not much else to tell other than we were really hungry by the time we got up to our camp. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that the skeeters down here were vicious!!!  I usually can endure without repellent but this was utterly impossible.  I already had blood splotches all over my shoulders.  I easily could kill three of those damn things with each swat.  With repellent on it seemed like there were hundreds just hovering around me.  Anyway, I wondered if my food was eaten by local critters while we were away. I couldn’t find it when we arrived. “Oh no”, I said to myself again as I checked in my pack one last time, this time to the very bottom. There was my food. “Oops, sorry about that, Michael. Here have a Twix and some Nutella!” See, the problem was that I never pack my food at the very bottom. For some reason, at 4:30 in the morning, I did. Yet another lesson learned!  We succeeded at getting past the lake by the time it got dark and hiked the rest of the way by headlamp. We ended up taking the low trail unfortunately to get us to Ingalls Pass – the low road dropped us down at least 2-300 feet that we had to regain. At Ingalls Pass we took a nice rest before beginning the starry march out. We arrived back at 12:20. Wow, a 20 hour day. It was 9 hours after we’d left the summit! The memories of those clean granite flakes will fortunately stay in my memory much longer than the unpleasant descent. It’s already starting to dissolve!

As a bonus to this climb, two days later, when I took off for a trip back home, I had the pleasure of picking a seat on the north side of the airplane in anticipation of views of the North Cascades.  As we took off, I was able to identify close peaks like Mount Si and The Tooth as well as the usual familiars to the north.  But the piece de resistance was the direct flyover of Mount Stuart where I was able to look straight down on the North Ridge!  I had to really work to suppress my excitement to those around.  “Hey!  I was there just two days ago!”

Michael and I decided that a car camp and avoiding an early morning two hour drive would be best so we set out from west of the Cascades in cloudy weather around 9:15pm.  On arriving in Leavenworth, I noticed the stars and clear skies above us.  We both were quite sleepy when we pulled into the campsite that Michael, Aidan, and I had used on Memorial Day 2003.  We threw bivy sacks and sleeping bags down on the ground and slept soundly for 5-6 hours.  I opened my eyes early in the morning and took a gander at the brightly lit surroundings.  Oh no!  We’ve overslept again!  I yelled at Michael to wake up to which he replied in a pathetically tired voice, “No, it’s only 4:53, we can sleep for seven more minutes.”  OK.  Michael actually reported that it was light around 4 in the morning.  What a great time of the year.  We readied our things in the early morning chill and then took the short mile drive to the trailhead.  We started hiking around 5:45.

We made quick progress up the trail.  It seemed like no time at all had passed when we’d arrived at the first bridge and then at the turnoff to Colchuck Lake.  All the previous times that I’d been here were in early May and they left an indelible memory.  After all the falls through snow holes, the slips, the soaked boots, well everything having to do with wet snow, I was thoroughly enjoying the dry trail.  Soon enough we were at the lake and then making our way up the Colchuck Glacier and patches of moriane to the base of the climb.  The distance and elevation from the lake to the climb did not appear far, but, as usual, it was.

We continued on past campsites, some of which were occupied, and arrived at the base of the glacier. The snow was quite hard and sparkling and we took the time to put on crampons so we wouldn’t have to spend extra energy teetering one way or another trying to keep our balance. We were now in the sun which beamed down on us intensely. It was nice for a change and we happily put on our sunscreen. From where we were, it was nearly 1100 feet to the base of the climb, although it certainly didn’t look like it.

There was a small bergeschrund at the base of the wall that gave access to a short and semi-steep snowfield that led to the base of the rock. Here, we decided to keep our crampons on since the terrain looked reasonably easy (3rd and 4th class) and would soon lead us to another snowfield. Dry tooling seemed pretty easy, definitely easier and much less stressful than what was to come -- the steep snow traverse. Normally, this is just a continuation of 3rd and 4th class rock that we were on. Now, it was a traverse hard and steep snow with a scary cliff at the base of it. Because it was a rightward traverse, our right legs, especially the calves, became very sore supporting us. There were a few places to stop and rest, but by the nature of the scary terrain, we wanted to move through it quickly. I found this part of the climb easily the scariest and probably would have liked to have been roped up here. Actually, I felt very secure, but on the off chance of a slip, things could have turned ugly. Michael continued up snow on one section but I opted to get off the snow as soon as possible and enjoy the solid granite. Finally, we were at the base of the first 5th class pitch. We stopped to put on our shoes and get some lunch.  By now, clouds had moved in to block out the sun.  It looked liked the weather would hold though.

I led up the first pitch which was rated at 5.7. The beginning was problematic because the normally easy way was covered in snow, and I was done with climbing on hard snow (and I had my shoes). So, I decided to go straight up an open book and try to traverse over. This turned out to be quite difficult and I needed to back down, well beyond 5.7 (and there’s only one 5.7 crux at the top). So, I backed down, looked right, looked left, and opted to put both feet on the snow with solid handholds. That worked and I was on my way, although after a long delay. The climbing was easy for the most part, mostly low 5th class. There were series of corners and open books and I generally tended to stay on the left side where the rock was smoother, but with less lichen. The climbing was good. I could see the distinct leaning tower that marked the end of the first pitch very close to me as I approached the final crux, which was a burly short chimney that required a semi-strenuous lieback. Then, I passed the tree with the rap sling on it as some route descriptions mentioned and I was on the broad ledge that led around the leaning tower to the crux 5.8-5.9 pitch. I was expecting a reasonable belay station over there with slings and all -- there were none. I had to build my own. Not a problem, but I was just surprised.

The next pitch was the crux and Michael opted to go straight up the thin crack system.  There was a corner option as well to the left that’s rated 5.8/5.9 that looked easier except when you got to the top, where the corner starts to arc over towards the climber and the footholds look really thin.  The small crack was pretty tricky.  Handjams were a little scarce for me and I ended up following the pitch using “gym” techniques by leaning way out and counter-balancing to get my feet higher to easier footholds (the lower part is more difficult).  At the top of the crack, after a delicate shift to the right to a blockier section, I followed up a great hand crack corner.  I found it awkward to use both foot and hand jams at the same time so I hand jammed my way up while keeping my feet placed out on small face holds.

I headed out for pitch three which turned out to be my favorite of the climb.  It was rated 5.7 and felt like a joyous cruise up super solid granite on fun terrain where a solid hold was just where you needed it.  The first part was definitely the trickiest -- a slick open book.  This section protected well, but my pasted feet tended to slip while placing gear.  Once I got a single piece in, I just opted to inelegantly heave my way to the top where the fun part started.  The next long section was a fun corner that also featured nice views down to the glacier below.  We could see little tiny ant men making their way up to the col.  I wondered if they could see us.

I brought Michael up to a confined belay stance at a small and stunted evergreen.  As he arrived at the top, he asked, “Do you feel any raindrops?”  “No.”  But before many minutes a little groppel started falling.  Fortunately, the little bean bag balls bounced off the rock and collected on the level ground and wasn’t causing a problem.  Michael led off on pitch 4 that was easy except for a short awkward chimney to squeak through.  Beyond that, we began the long pitches of simul-climbing.  We were relieved to be above the hardest climbing, but the falling snow was a little unnerving.  We realized that we needed to just press on quickly and go up an over the peak; retreating back down the route would be hard and tedious.

I characterize the climbing on the upper pitches as relatively solid, although we had to take care on our holds.  The climbing gets more loose the further away from the ridge crest we got, so we strived to stay right on the crest.  It seemed like each pitch had short easy crux sections of 5.2-5.6.

We wisely decided to stop and put on our shells.  The snowfall increased and eventually developed into flake.  The flakes, unlike the groppel, would fall and melt directly on the face, quickly making the climb wet.  At one point, Michael was leading and yelled down for me to put him on belay.  I paid the rope out slowly, which unfortunately meant that the section was hard.  I then went on belay and followed up.  At this point, I had on no gloves and the snow was coming down really hard.  I saw the difficulty in front of me:  a sloping wet and mossy slab with a narrow crack on the left.  The crack, as it turned out, was too shallow for any protection and Michael had essentially soloed it.  I don’t think I would have tried that myself.  There was a fixed pin in the crack but it wasn’t clipped and when I grabbed it, it pulled right out.  I delicately made my way up, at one point nearly losing it; I was thankful for the belay.  The snow was dumping on me now and my hands had a layer of snow on them and lots was falling down my open sleeves.  I pressed on and at the top wrung the snow out and tightened down my jacket.  At the belay, I continued on.  The snow abated and eventually stopped, probably about an hour after starting.  The sun, while it didn’t come out, shined through enough the high clouds to warm us up and help dry out the rock.  A gentle wind also lent a helping hand.  The rock became dry pretty quickly actually.

At this point I was just ready to be on the top in case the clouds decided to open up again.  However, we were back to our usual joking mode and the climbing again became enjoyable and less stressful.  Michael led out one final pitch below the summit block that led us through a steep and difficult overhanging crack.  The crack was filled with ice.  At this point, I didn’t care about being a purist and unabashedly grabbed on the gear to get myself to a better stance.  Off to the right about 50 feet was easier terrain.  Shucks, we could have gone that way.  Oh well, no matter.  At the top of this pitch was a section of snow.  We could see the summit of the peak right in front of us.  Because of time and snow, we opted to put on our boots and gaiters and take the standard route around the left side of the summit block and on up 3rd class slopes to the summit instead of the direct 5.7 finish to the summit.  The snow traverse was fun and exposed and I paused a bit to get some video footage.  We rounded the corner and scrambled our way a short distance to the top.  Wow, it felt good to have the tough climbing behind us.  We enjoyed sitting on the summit for 30 minutes or so.  The clouds started descending again though and Stuart passed out of view.

The descent off the back side of Dragontail was a breeze and we enjoyed a beautifully long glissade on perfect snow.  Aasgard Pass was a little more problematic, more scree and harder snow.  At one point, I got out of control on my glissade and smacked into Michael.  We both had to self arrest.  After that, I opted to plunge step my way down.  Michael, though, enjoyed the glissade-arrest-glissade-arrest approach and he got way out in front of me.  That gave him the opportunity to go up Colchuck Glacier a hundred feet or so and retreive our hiking poles that we’d stashed.

We had a pleasant hike out.  Finally, I felt in shape enough to not feel utterly exhausted and sick at the end of the climb, so I actually enjoyed the hike out.  However, I did end up lying down on the bare rock at Mountaineers Creek while it gently drizzled on me.  Michael decided to join in on the sleep and as he passed by he woke me up startling me -- ok, I guess I was really tired after all.  We also passed some interesting folks who asked lots and lots of questions about rock climbing.  Michael was pleasant with them and answered their queries, while I just quietly sat back and enjoyed the rest; I wasn’t really lively enough to talk much.  I had forgotten to bring my headlamp on the climb (as my Colorado friends would say, “Well, it wouldn’t be a real trip if Theron didn’t forget something!”), however, we hiked out fast enough to arrive just in time before the sun set.  I was really excited to have Dragontail under my belt, especially such a cool route!

Trip statistics:  12 miles, 6000 feet, 15 hours

The next part of the hike in got a little trickier and took a lot longer.  We continued to make good time on the trail to Stuart Lake.  We needed to break off the main trail though and head for the opposite valley, which is the most convenient place to camp and climb Stuart from.  We found a major switchback and decided to break off the trail there.  At the northern fork of Mountaineers Creek we searched for a crossing of the creek.  We didn’t find anything too easy and eventually settled on a dry upward sloping log that we had to straddle and scoot across, avoiding sitting on the pointy broken limb stumps.  It was a pretty tricky crossing.  On the other side, we wondered if we’d waited too long to leave the main trail (we had), because we had a lot of uphill and then subsequent downhill on obnoxious snowy talus to get to the southern fork of Mountaineers Creek, where a trail, or at least a snowy boot path, was reputed to be.  As we were slogging our way through the talus, we heard Dan Smith calling our names!  That was great…good to see Dan and his party, who had just climbed Argonaut Peak in a very long day, and to have them guide us down to the creek.

At the creek, we had easier going for a while but got back into plenty of snowy sections where rotten holes underneath sent us falling into snow up to our thighs and waist.  We were beyond our allotted four hours but still had a reasonable amount of light.  Eventually, we finally arrived at the top of the steep slopes to the broad and snowy meadow at 5400 feet.  Our first priority was to replenish our water.  I thought I heard some up ahead but when I got up there, I could no longer hear it.  I suppose I was hearing a reflection of the creek behind us.  So, while I was setting up camp and getting the cooking supplies ready, Michael retraced his steps to fetch water.  We enjoyed a freeze dried meal (actually, I wasn’t too keen on mine this time) and the near full moon that illuminated the northeastern side of Mount Stuart.  We set the alarm for 3:30am and went to bed.

Click here to view the embedded video.

We got up at 5am…ah well.  The dim morning light revealed that the upper slopes of Stuart was now engulfed in clouds.  Drat!  That always bothers me but Michael wasn’t too worried about it.  So, we started the slog.  This route has a lot of snow climbing, step kicking, and so on in it.  So, get used to it!  However, I must admit that with the long snow slopes and the windy cloudy weather, I was not into the climb.  But I kept going.  Our first objective was to walk past the Sherpa Glacier, the Ice Cliff Glacier, and the North Ridge and ascend to the Stuart Glacier.  At the Stuart Glacier, we ascended again, making our way to the eerie couloir, whose base we could only see; the rest faded away in the clouds.  At the base of the couloir, we had already climbed 2300 feet of snow!  The couloir and the big upper snowfield constituted another 1200 feet of snow climbing!

Michael started up the couloir by crossing over the bergshrund.  Looking down the big fissure, I could see how big and how much space was down in there.  A ways up the couloir, I took the lead and continued up all the way to the base of the snowfield.  The two sections of ice weren’t problematic at all although the ice was getting quite sloppy.  Little mini fountains would pop out when I swung my pick into the ice.  The ice section is short and not that steep and we soloed all of it.  The exposure increased as we went higher and higher.  From the upper snowfield, the exposure is at it’s max; it’s a long straight shot down the couloir back to the Stuart Glacier.  The upper couloir had wet spring snow that packed on to our crampons in balls as thick as 6 inches so we were forced to take off our crampons and step kick the rest of the way.  The good news was that the weather was clearing.  We could see blue sky above us and swiftly moving clouds.  OK, there would be wind.

Sure enough, the wind greeted us at the top of the west ridge.  Still, I think I’d rather have the wind and sun rather than damp and cloudy conditions.  At this point, I realized there was no escape on this route, well no practical escape.  It would be very tedious and stressful to retrace that 3500 feet of snow.  The best way down was to continue up.  Of course, I didn’t want to go down.  The sun had given me more confidence.  We took the customary break, ate food, and got ready for rock climbing portion of the climb.  The first pitch was basically horizontal along the ridge, pretty easy going, I suppose it was 4th class.  We were wearing our stiff boots, I had my plastic boots.  I was actually a little worried about the rock climbing portion because of my boots.  We traveled along the south side of the peak, in the sun.  The second pitch led up along 5.0 terrain to the intimidating section where we had to move along thin exposed ledges of the north face…long way down to the Stuart Glacier.  Michael led the entirety of the upper pitches and headed out along a snowy exposed ledge scarcely wider than two feet.  The climbing wasn’t too hard, though rated 5th class.  Fortunately, the snow was reasonably firm and our boot placements felt solids.

At the base of the second pitch of the north face, we suspected that we could have retreated a bit to a small notch to get up on to the ridge.  It looked a little awkward, but it might work.  Instead, we pressed on ahead.  The first move was a tricky 5th class, strenuous move around a bulging rock that led to a steep snow chute allowed rock hand holds.  The rope tugged tight and I waited a moment for the belay and then started up.  The move was indeed strenuous and pretty hard (especially wearing all that gear).  I then started up the chute and discovered that Michael had just put me on belay…we actually simulclimbed that hard move.  Back up on the ridge, we enjoyed more sun and it looked like we had a couple more easy pitches before we began the two 5.6 pitches.  We traversed under the south face in sun for and then started up an easy 5th class pitch, then another up a steep face.  The final pitch was a 5.6 crack system.  I noticed Michael on his belly pulling himself up on a section of it…hmmm.  He was soon out of sight but after some minutes, the rope didn’t come tight.  I heard him yell “On Belay” and I started climbing, but the rope still didn’t come tight.  I yelled “Take!” several times, the rope slowly came in and I started up the hard crack.  In boots, this was a bear, and easily the hardest part.  It was doable with fairly good handholds, but virtually nothing for feet and it was nearly vertical.  As I pulled myself up, the rope didn’t come tight again.  So I yelled “Take!”  One of the ropes (we had the rope doubled) came a little tight, the other didn’t move.  So, I continued up to easier terrain, after the most strenuous moves of the climb, holding on just long enough to pull myself up and find tiny ledges where I could somehow hook my boots and help myself up.  I was finally on terrain easy enough that I was able to reel in the rope.  As I climbed higher, I noticed what had happened:  The rope had somehow pinched against two boulders.  I could not release it; I don’t know how it got in there.  After some finagling and digging out of pebbles and stones, I was able to free the rope.  Michael looked exhausted and said that he had spent lots of energy trying to haul in the rope.

I led ahead on easy terrain to the summit, a nice small perch with a little snow around.  The rope got snagged again and Michael got more irritated.  Over the north face was a near vertical drop to the base and I delicately handled my camera over the edge.  After a short but relaxing break on the windy summit, we headed down.  We had to descend the Sherpa Glacier.  The route to it looked a lot easier than what we’d just come up.  I suppose it was easier, but it wasn’t any less tedious.  The snow was rotten on the south side and we had to cautiously avoid falling through snow into unseen holes.  We stayed on rocks and dirt where we could.  Finally, at the Sherpa Glacier, we started a comfortable plunge step down.  The snow got a little hard near the base but we were still able to manage.  The hard crust of the snow though started to bruise our shins!  Finally, back at camp we hastily packed up – we had to make it over that scary creek crossing before the sun went down or we’d spend another night out.  But first, we had to take the time to wring out our waterlogged socks.  The spring snow was merciless and it didn’t help that my gaiters were torn, allowing the snow to seep in with each steep.  Putting the cold wet boots back on was most unpleasant.  We made a hasty retreat.

The hike out was a fast one.  It didn’t end too quickly but we moved like men on a mission.  We decided to try to follow the trail that Dan and his party had made on their way out.  Maybe they found a better crossing.  Down low, with the mixing of snow and long sections of dirt or logs, the trail became hard to follow.  We did a pretty good job of tracking the trail though and found the major creek crossing just as the light was starting to go down.  Michael had soaked himself in a small creek crossing behind us, so we were doubly motivated to move quickly.  Thanks to Dan and his party for leaving the footsteps behind.  Sure enough, the creek crossing was much simpler and we didn’t have to gain or lose any elevation.  Back on the main trail, we had a drink right out of the stream to give us a little boost for the long hike out.  By now, we had our headlamps on.  The long march was underway and we arrived back at the car, the only one remaining, at quarter past eleven.  Ug, I felt ill again from so much effort.  This time, a gas station frozen burrito and a coke was my medicine.  We took turns driving back to Seattle, though Michael got the raw deal – I slept all the way to Snoqualmie Pass.  Thanks, Michael, I owe you one!

I recall my ears being really cold as we hiked up on the shadowed west slopes. I didn’t feel like getting out any head gear though and there were other potential climbers for the east ridge; wanted to stay at the front of the line. Before hitting the pass though, the sun came out and did its work warming up the surroundings nicely. From the pass, we had crystal clear views of Mount Stuart. Ingalls was dwarfed by it to the left.

Making quick time, we arrived at the lake and took a short break to grab a little food. I was struck by the beauty of the lake – a still gem of a lake that’s quite big. Mount Stuart reflects in it nicely too. The hike up to the gully that would give us passage to the East Ridge started out easy enough among smooth and polished glacier slabs. But these gave way to a lot of talus hopping. The gully itself is quite loose and unpleasant. Fortunately there was no one either above or below us. Rockfall can be quite dangerous here. At one point we came to a perfect fork in the gully…the left one looked only slightly more “correct” and we took it. It turned out we were right.

We came to a blocked section of the gully were we figured the climb started (it does). Above easy 5th class terrain, we had the option to either go left up a face or straight ahead up a chimney. Robert was leading and took the chimney. He called out that it was a pretty tough little chimney to get up. I suggested maybe trying the face if it was too hard but he kept at it. I followed up and thought it was pretty hard too – we both thought 5.8. Chimneys are just hard when it comes to alpine climbing in my limited experience. Your pack gets caught on things and it’s hard to turn around and so on. On top of that, one wall of the chimney was pretty slick thanks to the serpentine rock. Robert had placed a came way up underneath the roof of the chimney that I had to go fetch. I then had to do some minor acrobatics to end up facing the correct way (thankfully, I’d placed my giant camera case in my pack before climbing the chimney). I thought I’d have a hard time exiting the chimney and was a little sketched out but it turned out to be quite easy.

Up on the ridge, I took over the lead and started up easy 5th class ridge running. I had to wend between towers though and soon the rope drag became a little silly. So I brought Robert up and he led up the next pitch which turned out to be really a really cool face climb up more easy 5th class terrain. We made good time up this pitch. I then took over and led over a thrilling but sadly short knife ridge to 4th class face/ridge terrain. I had to do more tower wending and the rope drag became pretty substantial again. I was determined to make it to a notch though that looked to be the obvious place to start the next and final pitch. I dragged my way up and built a little gear anchor and brought Robert up.

Robert got the last lead. This was the crux of the East Ridge route apparently. I remember Robert said, “I think this is the crux here!” and I asked, “Is it harder than the chimney?” “No way, this is cake compared to the chimney!”  And it was!  The crux is rated 5.7 but it feels easier than that.  It’s also very short.

Soon after we were on the summit.  We had plans to rap down and climb up the south ridge as well, the much more popular route.  It turned out that there were several parties on the south ridge and we had to wait a while while rappelling.  Once we got down, I took off for the summit again.  Overall, I think the south ridge is a more classic route.  It’s only problem is that it’s too short!  Anyway, Robert and I simul-climbed our way to the top in about 15 minutes.  We then had to wait almost two more hours before we could rappel down again!

We hiked out and discussed fun topics such as Dungeons and Dragons and video games.  We were back at the car before dark for more Man ‘o War and Therion tunes!

We started out on the nice trail with snow right away; there were only a few patches here and there of dry ground.  For the most part, the hike up was pretty easy.  At the turn off to Colchuck Lake, the trail became much dirtier featuring lots of post holes.  At one point I was crossing, what looked like a solid crossing over a creek when the bridge broke and soaked my left boot.  A few moments later we arrived at the lake with the fabled fantastic views of Dragontail and Colchuck Peaks.  Pictures never do the mountains justice and Dragontail looked a whole lot bigger than I had imagined it from the various pictures I’d seen.

At the lake, we stopped for a brief lunch.  Of course, at this moment, the clouds moved in and covered the tops of the peaks.  A wind picked up and it started snowing.  The food buoyed our spirits though and we headed off across Colchuck Lake to the base of the Colchuck glacier.  The view was so stupendous that I asked Michael to take a picture of me.  Michael wasn’t able to take the picture so I asked him to unlock the camera and advance the film.  Well, he’d done all that.  Unfortunately, my fully manual camera had locked up!  It hadn’t done this in a long time, don’t start now!  To make a long camera story short, I finally figured out how to make it work, I had to either breathe on it for a while or generate friction heat by locking and unlocking the shutter, then slamming the button with my finger to take the picture.  I’m sad to say, that though this worked, my pictures *stunk* for this trip!  All my high altitude extreme shots had a dark band through them.  Bleeh!  What to do…

We began the long long slog up to the top of Colchuck Glacier.  I don’t recall how long this took but it was at least a couple of hours.  We didn’t move that slowly either though I did frequently stop and fiddle with my camera (I hadn’t unravelled the mystery at this point).  At the top of the Dragontail-Colchuck col we had to descend a few hundred feet and then ascend that distance back up to the Argonaut-Colchuck col.  Argonaut was pretty impressive from this angle although it kept fading in and out of clouds.  The snow was swirling around us as well adding to the fantastic alpine mood.  I was pretty beat at this point.  In fact, at the Dragontail-Colchuck col, I nearly napped while leaning on a rock!  Finally, we made it up to the second col and we were really excited to see the fantistic views.  The top of Mount Stuart peeked out above the highest clouds.  It seemed so high and far away.  We were actually very close to the summit of Argonaut from our camp directly on the ridge.  We just needed to climb the east face to climb most directly to the summit, but our route was the more ambitious Northwest Arete.

We set up Michael’s new tent – a lightweight job consisting of no floor!  We used my trekking poles for tent poles and ice axes and Michaels poles for stakes.  It was a bit tricky to get up in our confined location but we got creative and worked it out.  Then it was on to checking out the route and getting food going.  Our route required us to downclimb steep snow for 1000 feet and then climb up another steep slope to the northwest arete.  It was really cold up here so it was good to get inside the tent with the warm tent stove.  My old tired gloves with the duct tape weren’t doing a great job of keeping my fingers warm.  Can’t blame ‘em really.  However, for your information, those gloves have now been honorably discharged – they were the first pieces of technical clothing gear that I ever bought!  After a hot meal, we turned in.  We talked for a while but I was fading fast.  Pretty soon, my responses to Michael’s commentary was “Mmm hmm”, “Uh huh” and so on.  As soon as we stopped talking, I was out – I think it took about a minute…literally!  We both slept great!

The next morning was not unlike the previous day – unsettled clouds with a light wind.  We started out down the ridge a ways before finding a slightly less steep place to get onto the primary slope that would lead us down to the bowl.  The climbing was indeed steep but nothing too extreme or strenuous.  At the bowl, we angled back up the steep snow field that hugged the base of Argonaut Peak.  We took turns kicking steps through shin to knee deep snow.  My water, though inside my pack, had frozen already.  I was able to break the ice seal on the top but it was so cold and ice that it was hard to drink any decent quantity.  At the top of the col, we were able to nestle next to a small gendarme and set up the rope.  Michael led out first around the corner where it was very hard to hear him.  Both of our voices suffered from echoes and we had to speak very slowly in order to be understood.  It took a while for us to get our bearings but eventually I felt Michael tugging the rope and putting me on belay.

I headed around the corner and, to my shock, saw the rope ascending a vertical chimney.  Hey, I’m wearing crampons and a large backpack here!  And my legs are cold since I’ve been belaying for the past few minutes!  Anyway, I started up…this was really hard stuff!  What would be comfortable and enjoyable 5.6 climbing in summer was a serious proposition with snow all over the route.  I hooked my crampons on small nubbings and pushed my way up.  After pulling out a cam I arrived at a tight hex placement.  The damn thing wouldn’t come out and both my foot holds were on crampon points.  I tugged hard and it came out hard…straight into my forehead.  I yelled disgustingly, not out of pain but out of…frustration.  OK, so then I headed up again.  My face felt a little “itchy”, sort of we, so I rubbed it with my glove.  Taking the glove away, I notieced the happy red stains on it.  So, I closed an eye and looked inward and saw blood streaming down my face.  Great.  Then I popped out and gave Michael a bit of a scare but I let him know what happend and that I was OK…no pain, just an annoyance.  But, I wondered how big the cut was.  I figured if the rest of the pitches weren’t as hard as that damn chimney, then this would be doable.  But that chimney was damn hard…I was panting for breath at the top.  The second pitch was easier, taken as a whole, but also featured a tough move that required the camming of our ice axes to get up.  Jeez…ok, what’s next? 

The next pitch was even harder.  It featured an exposed, snow-covered slab, then an extremely difficult move to get into another hard chimney.  Michael was taking a while to figure this out and I was starting to get pretty cold.  It didn’t help to have blood all over my face either.  When Michael tried one way and couldn’t make it work, he tried traversing over a mossy, snowy slab.  That didn’t work either.  At this point he was forced to make an aid move with a sling and a nut.  At this point, my instincts were telling me to call it quits.  Eventually, Michael asked me what I thought and I frankly replied, “I think we should turn back”.  We did.  It was definitely the right thing to do for it also had started to snow quite hard as well and as we rappelled, it snowed even harder.  We backed off some and were able to see most of the rest of the route – it looked hard, if not harder, the rest of the way up.  1000 feet below in the snow bowl, we were faced with the tedious climb back up to our camp.  We were reassured again as the snow and wind picked up.  Up on the ridge, we noted spindrift avalanches pouring off of Argonaut’s north face.  We got back to camp and had a little more food, packed up, caught a second wind and headed out.  The climb back up to the Dragontail col wasn’t bad at all…we even spotted a white ferret on the way up!  He popped out to see if it were really spring yet.  No, not yet, back in the hole!

We had a great glissade back down to the lake.  Well not quite to the lake.  The last 100 feet consisted of some serious postholes in the late afternoon melting snow.  I got lodged pretty good at one point and had to dig my boot out.  I felt pretty good though beginning the climb back down Mountaineer Creek.  The hike down, however, sapped my energy as we postholed and slipped our way down.  Finally, at the creek, we shared a stupendous ham sandwich.  With that jolt of food, we marched really fast back to the car…record time according to Michael.

Well, there was no summit for us this weekend.  But there was 8100 feet of elevation…I guess that’s good!  No, this was a great trip…a lot of fun and some great experience!  Thanks for the suggestion, Michael!