Michael and I planned on doing Mount Stuart’s classic North Ridge last year, but fires had closed access to the trailheads and thus we ended up going to West McMillan Spire. Stuart would wait another year. For a trip that had been discussed for a long time, it certainly began in a chaotic fashion. At the last minute, we ditched our weekend plans for a climb due to weather and opted to take off a Wednesday the following week where the weather window seemed to be at its best. We left later than planned on Tuesday afternoon but were soon on our way. Our original intent was to do the full ridge from the Mountaineers Creek trailhead but we dashed those plans again at the last minute when we thought the Sherpa glacier would be to difficult to descend. So, the plan was set during the drive out for an approach from Ingalls Pass. Maybe that would work out well for us; every time I’ve been up Mountaineers Creek (three times), I’ve had cloudy weather. Every time I’ve been up Ingalls Pass (once), I’ve had good weather. Ingalls Pass is now two for two.
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!”
To sneak in and nab Dragontail in a day was the plan. The dreary forcast called for yet another weekend of unsettled weather. Leavenworth looked reasonable at “partly cloudy” on Saturday and torrents on Sunday. Why not try a grade IV climb in a day…we’ve got to do something alpine this weekend! Getting a close look at Dragontail from Colchuck Lake, I’d forgotten how immense it’s north face was. We’re going all the way up there up that route? Awesome!
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!
The weather in the North Cascades deteriorated so we headed to the Alpine Lakes for slightly unsettled weather which was apparently perfect for the Stuart Glacier Couloir route (I guess it was). We got a deliberately late start on Saturday, leaving the Seattle area a little after noon. After various errands and stopping for food, we drove to the Mountaineer Creek trailhead and hit the trail around 4pm. We estimated it would take about four hours to get to high camp at the base of Mount Stuart at 5400 feet. We brought a 60m 8.5mm rope and a fairly large rack of gear for the rock portion (we would double the 60m rope). Michael opted for two ice tools and I decided to stick with a standard mountaineer’s axe and a single ice tool. We made great time to Colchuck Lake turnoff, maybe an hour, and continued on to the first nice viewpoint of Mount Stuart where we took our first break, drank some water, and shot some video footage and some photos.
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.
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!
