I wanted to climb Mount Cruiser ever since seeing the old cover of the Mountaineers Guide to the Olympic Mountains. Here’s a similar picture on the web that I found. Robert and I only had one day to do Cruiser so we decided to approach from Mildred Lakes instead of the much longer Flapjacks Lakes approach. According to the map, the Mildred Lakes looked much more reasonable – 4 to 5 miles one way. Why would people prefer the Flapjacks Lakes approach? We didn’t pay enough attention to that internal question and found out the hard way. Well, in retrospect, it was a fun trip, though I recall not being to happy with it upon arriving back at the car late at night.
We took the Kingston Ferry at 7am and then drove southward down the eastern slopes of the trailhead and up the Hamma Hamma River road until the very end – the Mildred Lakes trailhead. For the most part, the trail was easy to follow. However, we did note that parts of the trail became semi-obscured in the forest and that it would be hard to follow in the darkness. So we set a turnaround time so we’d be back at Mildred Lakes around 6:30, which should give us enough daylight to hike out with relative ease.
We caught our first glimpse of Sawtooth Ridge and Mount Cruiser before having to descend down to the lakes. It sure did look like a long way to go for such a small point. The mystique of Cruiser prodded us forward down to the lakes where we began searching for the non-existent climber’s path. We headed across the lakes at a log jam, where Robert completely dunked his foot into the lake, completely soaking one boot. We went up through timber that gradually steepened with flies and mosquitos perpetually buzzing around us.
The bushwhack up to alpine didn’t seem too unreasonable. It was certainly preferred to the awful descent that we made. Soon enough, we were at snowfields where we had some water and food and continued up along the ridge. We were on the other side of Alpha from Cruiser. We had the option of doing a new route on the north side of Alpha, but it honestly looked like junk. So, we bypassed Alpha on the left, downclimbing loose chossy gullies.
We ascended back up towards Cruiser over talus and snow. At this point, the hike was qualifying for a pain-in-the-axe slog. We down-climbed to the base of Cruiser into a thin seam where we had the option to climb the 5.4 route which followed a dead vertical crack/chimney system. Much of it looked mossy so we climbed down a chockstone and traversed over the lower part of the face. Soon, the climbing became more serious and exposed and we were unroped. Robert tenuously climbed up to a belay point and threw a rope down to me which I tied around my waist. I headed straight up which became dead vertical and downsloping – definitely not good climbing. A large chunk of rock pulled out (I wasn’t testing each hold well at this point) and the rope caught me – it reminded me of the seriousness of climbing, to say the least). From here, Robert led up to the belay point beneath the final classic pitch.
http://www.vimeo.com/6813118
We decided to at least climb the 5.7 route on the right side. Robert led off again. I didn’t feel too much like leading after the shock of pulling that loose hold out. He headed out and later called back down telling me how good the pitch was. Indeed it was – near vertical but full of good holds. Protection was a little sparse. At one point, I found a natural connecting pocket in the rock where a sling could have been girth-hitched. Robert used a thin bolt cleverly by looping the end of the wire on a nut around it and cinching the loop with the nut itself. The pitch is a full 60 meters and after maybe 45 meters of face climbing, the pitch finishes on the narrow ridge to the top. The summit itself is tiny, one of the smallest summits I’ve been on.
We realized we didn’t have time to hang out on the summit so we rappelled down and began the exasperating descent. Instead of going back the way we did, which would have involved climbing back up loose gullies, but at least descending reasonable terrain, we headed straight down the talus. Eventually, the bugs returned and tormented us all the way out. I got some of the most irritating mosquito bites that I’d ever had in the Cascades or Olympics. For a few days after, I’d wake up in the early morning scratching my legs. No, we didn’t bring bug juice. What a mistake. In addition to the bugs, we eventually ran into the cliffs. We navigated slowly down these using a combination of cedar branches and tarzaning on the rope. Once we finally got down to near lake level, we were able to make reasonable time down talus and snow. At the base of the lake though, the bushwhacking started again and didn’t let up for most of our circumnavigating of the lake…and it’s a big lake! Crawling over logs became frustrating and I was getting irritated at having to go down to the base of the lake only to ascend up a hundred feet or so, crawling over logs, pulling up roots and branches, descending back down to the lake. We were very late, way beyond our 6:30 arrival time at the lake. I think it was around 9pm. We realized we had no time to stop and eat. If we didn’t want to risk getting lost, we had to cover as much ground as we could now.
I was near exhaustion at this point and couldn’t keep up with Robert. I did catch up to him in the forest where he was dealing with blisters from his wet boot. I took the opportunity to eat a Goo packet and a Snickers. About 10 minutes after that, I came to life. It’s amazing what a little energy food can do for you. From then on, I could easily keep up with Robert. We both put on our mp3s for the march out, but, of course, my batteries gave out not long after I started listening. I pounded out the silent dark miles behind Robert. We lost the trail a couple of times in the darkness, but fortunately were able to follow the trail without too much trouble. We got back to the car around 11, I think. We decided not to risk missing the 12:15 Monday morning ferry and went all the way around the Sound to the south through Olympia. It was a long night.
Don’t climb Cruiser from Mildred Lakes! The memory of the sight of the nice trail from Flapjack Lakes continues to haunt me.
Rating – three pipes!
Daniel and I hiked up to Boston Basin in late October of 2005. It was a super crisp clear day, one of the clearest I’d seen. Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to last. Even though there were good sunrise views of Johannesburg as we were getting ready to climb, clouds had moved in and had begun to rapidly descend over Forbidden Peak. We scrambled up snow-covered talus for over an hour hoping that the clouds would part, but it never happened. We descended and vowed to return the following year for a day-climb of the route.
We returned in early July, this time accompanied by Daniel’s brother Mark and Ari Lazier. We planned on doing it in a day so decided to at least bivy on the picnic tables at the Cascade Pass parking lot. I don’t recall exactly when we got up, but we hit the trail in nice daylight around 5:30 in the morning. I’ve learned to be thankful for nice trails and the trail up to Boston Basin certainly qualifies as “nice trail” and we made quick time up the 3rd class tunnel, past the various stream crossings, the avalanche debris, and so on. We were in the alpine slopes of Boston Basin in around two hours or so, maybe a little less. One of the niceties of the east ridge is that you don’t have to deal with anything like the couloir on the way to the route. At the base of the route, we roped up and I volunteered to take the first pitch. I figured that I’d lead the first few pitches and Daniel would finish off the last few. Well, I ended up leading the whole thing which was fine with me.
The climb is consistently 5th class, unlike the west ridge. In fact, this route is not just “a little harder” than the west ridge, it’s a good bit harder. Last year, I think we climbed the west ridge in 30 minutes or so, basically two simul pitches. The east ridge is more serious and sustained. None of the pitches are really “hard”, but they require care. Being riddled with gendarmes, the climb is subject to rope drag and I wore my shoulders out by hauling in two lines on each belay.
There’s a nice section of knife-edged ridge mid-way along the route. It was easily climbed by hand-traversing on the south side of the ridge. Both Ari and Mark, despite being super strong rock climbers, were relatively new to alpine climbing and were raving pitch after pitch. The east ridge was a perfect intro.
http://www.vimeo.com/6812120
Somewhere after the knife edge pitch was the second crux of the climb – a vertical wall on the north side of another gendarme on the ridge that leads to a small notch. At the notch, I was back on the ridge proper and climbed the gendarme, then descended – more rope drag. The short wall crux wasn’t as technical as the true crux near the end of the climb, but it’s a good bit more exposed.
There’s the option to climb a gendarme right before the crux and then rappel down to the crux belay. We had some rain hit us on the middle of the ridge with more weather threatening and since the gendarme climb was only twenty feet or so, we bypassed it on the right to the base of the crux. I offered the lead to Daniel, but he was happy just to let me keep going. OK, no problem. The pitch is a Cascade classic – it’s technical and easy to protect. I pulled up on small crimpers to a huge horn that I was able to throw a sling around. I pulled up one more move and realized I was at the 5.8 move – an overhanging section of wall with small features. To the left was a perfect finger crack which took a small nut beautifully. The protection was perfect and I pulled through the short moves to a jug where I let my feet catch some air high above the northeast face. What a great feeling. I think Daniel said that was his favorite pitch out in the mountains. That saying somethin’.
All that remained now was a simul-pitch of 5.2 ridge. Some more weather moved in and the clouds dropped around Eldorado and Boston, but Forbidden remained clear, although, I was now leading in swirling mist that only added to the awesome alpine ambience. The summit was ours and we hung out and ate for a bit before heading down the east ledges. We made 6 rappels, if I recall and then headed across the ledges. We broke up into two rope teams. I headed out first and placed gear as we simul-climbed. Daniel unclipped the gear and left it for the second team who re-clipped and then cleaned. Happy to be back at the ridged, we put on our hiking boots and headed down the slopes to Boston Basin. We got back to the cars after dark, didn’t see anyone else all day.
Daniel’s idea:
After work, drive up to Snoqualmie Pass, hike in to the Tooth, climb it, sleep on the summit, rappel down the following morning and go into work.
Dang that sounded cool to me. That’s almost like a free weekend. We headed out around 4:30 or 5:00 on Wednesday, stopped for some food at Subway in North Bend (saving part of the sandwich for the summit), and continued up to Snoqualmie Pass. From the parking lot, we hiked up the trail on snow. Well, I hiked; Daniel brought his skis and skinned up. Now, it was way back in November on Sperry Peak when I was last on snow and that was a postholing Hell. This Snoqualmie Spring snow was perfect, well-consolidated, and sturdy. I think I punched through once, and only then up to the thigh of one leg. Pshaw.
We made quick time up the valley, passed an open slope, where beyond we turned leftward past a waterfall and made a steep ascending and curving climb to Great Scott Basin. Within approximately an hour and a half we were near the Tooth. The snow climb beyond the small tower which Michael and I dubbed “Baby Tooth” was straight forward. At the very end, however, we did encounter a descent bergeschrund that required careful negotiation to safely squeak up and through in order to reach the small pass. A few minutes later we were at the base of the Tooth.
http://www.vimeo.com/6811948
I’d never led the Tooth before so Daniel gave me the first pitch. One long simul pitch later we were on the summit. The climb itself was good easy fun, solid the whole way, consisting of easy climbing with sprinkled 5.4ish cruxes here and there. The summit was surprisingly warm – mid to low 50’s, I suppose, with no wind. After enjoying the second half of our subway sandwiches and some evening photography, we bedded down on two good bivy ledges and stared up at the stars. Occasionally, I would turn my head slightly and look down on the cars travelling on I-90 far below.
I fell asleep fast and awoke sometime in the early morning hours to a bright three quarters moon hanging in the southern sky. Sometime later, at 5am I heard Daniel moving about. We lazed around and leisurely had a small breakfast and took more pictures and video.
We made one rappel off the summit and then decided to explore around the area. Daniel led back up looking around for the “Catwalk”. With no immediate pro available, we decided to just rappel all the way down and solo up “Baby Tooth” for some more photo opportunities.
Daniel skied out. I glissaded and plunge stepped my way out. We were back to work around 9:30.
The photos here were taken by Daniel.
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