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Sperry Peak

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Robert and I made a climb of Sperry Peak in what I call “off season”.  For some reason, I’ve lost some interest in mountaineering in the late Fall, Winter, and early Spring.  Maybe that’s because I enjoy high summer so much more.  There are more difficulties in the winter – wet, cold, less daylight, and so on.  Basically, I catch up on my other activities in the winter and enjoy the outdoors when nature really intended it for us climbers to enjoy.

Due to very slick snow, we had to park about two miles below the usual trailhead.  We brought snowshoes along for the basin below Headless Pass.  Our intention was to climb the south ridge.  We were hoping it would be dry from all the warm, clear weather that the mountains had been exposed to for the previous five days.

There were a few tricky stream crossings before breaking out of the trees.  We picked a turn around time of two o’clock so we wouldn’t have to deal with the crossings in the pitch black.  Basically the entire theme of the trip was “step on the snow and fall in the hole!”  We must have punched through the snow a hundred times between the two of us.  Robert, I have to confess, did a much better job of preserving his dignity than I did.  Somewhere in the basin, I punched through to my chest.  It took me five minutes to dig my left foot out.  Landmarks slowly passed by.  I recall looking back on a small waterfall that I swore we’d passed about an hour before, yet it still looked within two minutes of me.  The frustration continued as we persevered up the slope to Headlee Pass.

I wanted to turn around numerous times, but I did manage to stay focused and trudge my way up.  The holes continued to suck me in and often I had to escape by simply rolling out and sliding off the slick lip of the cavity.  A small bergeshrund had formed near the top of the pass.  About 5 feet above the ‘shrund, the slick snow caused me to skid again and I slowly and pathetically slid back down to the ‘shrund, erasing my past few minutes progress.  As I began the ascent again, a hole claimed one of my trekking poles – the bottom third of the retractable pole pulled out leaving the locking mechanism behind.  It was now useless.  So, leaving both poles behind for the return trip, I pulled out my ice axe for a relative increase in stability.

At the top of the pass, the sun greeted us.  After a short drop to the other side, we were drenched in sunlight and the snow became even wetter.  By this time, our feet were sloshing inside our boots.  A few more tedious slopes saw us at the base of the second half of the route.  We’d skipped the lower part of the climb by not climbing directly from Headlee Pass.

We decided to drop everything and blast up to the top.  I was surprised at how big the rack was the Robert brought.  He headed up in one long simul pitch to the summit.  The beginning featured a short near vertical step, probably the crux of the route.  Higher on the ridge was some playful exposure over the east slopes, but for the most part, the route was 3rd class.  A little after 2pm, our turn around time, we were on the top.

I was actually surprised that we made it, given how many times I’d wanted to turn around and how painfully slow we were in approaching the peak.  I credit Robert with the tenacity to keep going.  We had about two hours to get down before the sun went down.  We decided to descend straight down the east face and traverse back across to the lower part of the south ridge where we’d rappel down to our packs.  We plunged stepped down steep snow, grabbing on to trees for leverage.  Sometimes we sped the descent by grabbing trees and swinging down, sometimes we slowed ourselves by catching the trees before tumbling down.  We descended quickly to a bench of snow where we’d begin traversing.  Right before we got there, I fell into another hole up to my shoulders this time.  The traverse, however, was relatively easy.  I almost could see us eating up time by wading through deep snow, but thankfully, we only had to deal with knee deep slow for the most part.  Our snowshoes were with our packs back at the spot where we roped up too.  Throwing the rope around a stunted pine, we rappelled back to the packs and began the frustrating slog out.

If I was frustrated on the way up, I was agitated and irrational on the way down.  I descended into hollering and cursing the snow and the holes, vowing not to come out again until May or June (OK, at least until the snow is well consolidated).  We ended up crossing the stream crossings in near dark, but the crossings were easy.  Robert lost a pole that he threw across the creek.  We arrived back at the car around 6:30PM in total darkness.  As I write this and reflect back on the day, I’m shocked to find myself thinking it was pretty fun.  Thanks for the suggestion, Robert.

Snowking Mountain

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Snowking Mountain was the first “hike” of the year, the first time we didn’t bring a rope and gear along.  I couldn’t believe how small our packs were.  Looking at the map the night before, the trip looked to be quite reasonable for a North Cascades day hike:  10-12 miles and 6000 feet of elevation.  The following morning though, Aidan, Michael, and I discussed rumors of the spur road being closed.  Sure enough, about two thirds of a mile past the Cascade River crossing, a massive naked trunk had fallen across the road.  Just beyond that was a deep cleft that was probably carved during the torrential rains of late 2003.  Well, at least the road was good and wasn’t graded too steeply.  About 30 minutes later, we arrived at the trailhead.  Being the softies that we are, we cringed at the thought of the wet brush.  The first part of the trail climbs very steeply through an area that was apparently clear cut a few years ago.  While the trees are on their way back, there’s still plenty of brush encroaching on the trail and the boughs dumped the excess water all over us.

The trail, which is well-defined, enters old growth forest after about 400 vertical feet and continues up very steeply for about 2000 feet.  Right in the middle of a conversation, somewhere deep in the forest, Aidan let out a yelp that indicated a yellow jacket sting!  He scampered upward as I hung in the back cautiously; fortunately, I wasn’t stung.  The lash came on his left calf and we took a short break for Benedryl and water.  After more slogging in the steep forest, Aidan got stung again!  He took off upward with even more resolve.  I fled the scene off trail to the left but wasn’t so fortunate this time, getting a sting on my right forearm.  Aidan, I think, took four more stings here.  Man, poor guy.  Michael escaped again.  Of course, he got taken to the woodshed last year with about fourteen stings on the flanks of Wiley Ridge approaching Mount Challenger.

The trail finally levels off a bit in the forest at a swampy area and the hiking becomes more sustainable.  We arrived at a wooded col, still with no views of the mountain, where we descended for a while and began climbing up to point 5,791 where we had the first real views of Snowking Mountain.  They were impressive to say the least.

From this high point, it became apparent that we’d follow the ridge the entire way and not drop to Cyclone Lake and ascend the glacier, which was what the map suggested would be easiest.  We could, in fact, see a trail following the wooded ridge from point to point until the final ridge climb to the summit of Snowking.  This was already a pretty tiring ascent and I knew we wouldn’t enjoy retracing our steps as we lost lots of elevation on our way to the next point along the ridge.

Regardless of the disheartening elevation difficulties, the surroundings are impressive.  There’s a neat granite dike (or something) cutting through the ridge which formed a neat trough of rock and lots of neat outcroppings.  Also, we had an entertaining different perspective on the North Cascade peaks.  On top of all that, the views down in to the lakes to the west were probably the most impressive I have ever seen.  One of the lakes, Snowking Lake, was so turquoise that it looked fake.  Another, labeled “5442″ on the map, was very clear and the deepest blue in the middle that I’ve ever seen.  This is a place to come and camp and just relax!

After more ridge points, we arrived at a small basin just east of Cyclone Lake.  Here, there were lots of white granite talus boulders strewn around.  We stashed our packs, except for one which carried food and water and Michael’s fleece.  Our next ridge point would be the summit.  This ridge is a fun little scrambling playground and would be the home of some excellent climbing if it were between 40 and 70 degrees steeper.  There’s all sorts of fantastic splitter cracks and flakes that we had fun pretending to climb up (“Whoa, check out this perfect hand jam!”).  Michael did find a little 30 foot 5.6.  I can’t remember what he christened it.

Michael and Aidan were consistently in front of me.  This time, it wasn’t due to my videography or photography.  I was just plain tired and couldn’t keep up with their pace.  I guess I was about consistently 5 minutes behind them.  My legs just didn’t want to move that fast today.  Well, after calculating the total mileage and elevation, I don’t feel so bad, but I still wasn’t in as good shape as I was last year.  The views were impressive in all directions.  To the west, toward the Buckindy Crags, was a plethora of white granite slabs.  To the right, the awesome alpine lakes looked like jewels tucked away in the trees.  And behind us, we could see all the way from Baker, to the Pickets, to Cascade Pass, and the entire Ptarmigan Traverse.  The summit pyramid was an easy scramble.  I chose the easy way; Michael and Aidan took a 4th class route from the glacier.  On the summit we lounged around, partaking of horseplay and talk.  We ended up lying down.  Eventually, the conversation ended and I dozed off sleeping solid (even dreaming!).  Twenty minutes later, the chill woke Aidan up and we realized we needed to start heading down if we wanted to make it out without headlamps.  It was 4:05pm when we headed down.

We worried about yellow jackets on the way down.  Sure enough, they had their way with us even before the previous spot.  This time, just beyond the wooded col, I endured two more stings and Aidan got it twice.  I was behind the fellas again and I heard them yell, “Bee!!!” to warn me.  Well, it didn’t do me any good really…bee where?  I tried to be as quiet as possible; no good.  I heard a distinct Michael scream as well.  Though he wasn’t stung this time, he is wont to holler at the little beasts threats.  During the steep descent, we planned to stay as close together as possible and move quickly downward along the treacherous terrain.  We had memorized the elevation of where the attacks occurred.  We also had the hint of my trekking pole, which Aidan abandoned at the major sting site (3880 feet, I think).  When we saw it, we ran down frantically.  “Go go!!!  There’s one on me!”, I shouted.  “AAaaahhh!!!”, screamed Michael.  We made it safely through that gauntlet, but got tagged twice a hundred feet below.  Did they follow us?  We were standing around congratulating ourselves when Michael let out a scream that indicated a stinger had hit the mark.  “Go go!!!”  I felt another sting on my right arm as we bounded down.  Curse these vermin!!!  That was the end of it though.

At least we descended very quickly and arrived at the road literally one second before I said, “Guys, I think we should hit the road soon.”  The slog down the road was easy enough and it was certainly a pleasure to walk on near level ground again despite it being nearly dark.  We did have to use one headlamp to cross the big cleft in the road where we’d parked the cars.

Awesome trip, guys, despite the stings.  This was the most scenic trip of the year, I thought.

Stats:

• 17 miles roundtrip
• 8700 feet of elevation
• 12 yellow jacket stings

Washington Pass Climbing

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Routes climbed:

1.Liberty Bell – The Beckey Route
2.Concord Tower – The Cave Route
3.Lexington Tower – North Face
4.South Early Winter Spire – Southwest Buttress

I finally took a trip to Washington Pass this year.  After climbing Slesse, making trips to the Pickets, numerous Cascade Pass trips, and more typical Cascade climbing, I actually saw with my own eyes the Liberty Bell group.  I had never even been past the Ross Lake trailhead.  OK, enough about my surprise at how long it took me to make a visit.  Robert and I planned to climb several of the classic moderate routes.  We planned to make the short hike of about an hour to an hour and a half each morning and camp somewhere down in the valley.  We left my house around 7AM after searching a while for my escaped cat.

We hit the trail around 10:45 AM with our eyes set on the Beckey Route of Liberty Bell.  This is one of the most popular routes in the group.  It’s rated 5.7 and is about 5-7 pitches, I think.  On the hike up, I thought how nice it was to be doing some easy climbing for once – no long, painful approach featuring stream crossings, bushwacking, exposed scrambling, rappelling.  We felt like we were living the equivalent of a life in a big touring RV.  At an hour, we were at the base of the loose gully.  Well, so much for the RV, the gully, while short, was a typical Cascadian couloir of loose rock and dirt.  At the notch, we scurried along a ledge to the base of the climb.  “You wanna lead?”, asked Robert.  “Yeah sure.”  I was feeling pretty good and was happy to lead out and get moving.  We decided to simul-climb the route.  I led up on the comfortable warm granite enjoying the moderate nature of the climb.  At the chimney pitch, a chockstone divided the route between choices of left or right.  For some reason, I chose right which was at least a 5.8 move.  I instantly knew the correct was was the left, but I continued up.  After all, there were slings that protected the move.  I clipped one and made an awkward chimney move to get on top of the chockstone.  Then, I placed another piece, unclipped the sling to prevent Robert having to go that way and continued up. 

To me, the chimney was the crux of the climb.  It’s easy, but at least sustained.  At the top of the chimney, I recognized the description of the beginning of the third pitch.  Robert still hadn’t started climbing but would be doing so soon.  This next section of the climb was easy, featuring one tough move up a short crack.  I did spend a good amount of time deciding how to protect the move and ultimately settling on a cammed hex.  Beyond this, a fun, easy, and exposed traverse brought me up to more moderate ground to near the end of the route.  “Hmm, the 5.7 crux is somewhere up here.”  I hadn’t bothered looking at the topo lately and didn’t feel the need to since I could see the summit.  I made a thin bouldering move up a short blank face (turns out this was the crux) and continued up along more easy ground.

Below the summit, I assumed I saw the crux although there was obviously a 5.0 way which was more direct to the summit.  “Hmm…weird,” I thought.  Well, I continued on up fun flakes on the left.  After one long simul pitch I was on the top and belayed up Robert.  “Hey, that was a fun ending you added on”, he said.  I asked if that was the crux and he informed me that, no, it was actually the blank face.  Ah, ok.  Well, a fun route!

Downclimbing and rappels saw us back at the notch where we set off for the Cave Route on Concord Tower (5.8).  Robert set out off the lead.  The crux pitch is the first one.  We were a little worried because there was signs that someone had bailed off the route.  The first part of the climb is a fun traverse to an awkward move to reach a short dihedral.  Here, someone left a sling and a cam!  Well, Robert clipped it and kept going.  Robert reported it was quite fun…and solid!  The dihedral looked a little intimidating too, but also turned out to be reasonable and fun.  I followed up and found this to be the case.  It’s a great opening pitch.  Robert decided to continue up and ended up traversing under a long roof.  I followed up and found it distinctly easier but just as fun.  I thought maybe this large roof was the cave.  No, Robert was belaying in the cave.  It’s actually a long tunnel (great place to bivy!).  I took over the lead, walked through the tunnel, and emerged onto warm granite slopes.  Exposed at first, this pitch becomes quite easy, mostly an easy friction climb to the summit. 

We had a 50 meter rope and our rappels were short in a couple of places on the descent.  Back at the notch, we retrieved our packs and headed down to Lexington Tower’s North Face route.

Lexington Tower’s north face route was my least favorite.  The route is 5.7 and is determined by the very first move.  The move is quite awkward.  It’s not too hard though, just goofy and nothing aesthetic.  The remainder of the route was quite moderate.  I think we finished the climb in one more simul pitch.  The descent was a little problematic, our rope got caught more than once.

By now, it was pushing 7pm, I think and we decided to head down and drive to Winthrop for some food.  Wow, real food tonight, no freeze-dried.  Well, not really.  We arrived in Winthrop at 9pm, just after all the food establishments closed.  A sympathetic waitress however, scrounged up some grub for us in the form of a Caesar salad and some frozen tiramisu.  Tasty.  We then headed for a “secret spot” that Robert had used a few times in the past.  It turns out we were in the wrong spot, but it worked.  It was an old road forgotten by man covered in weeds.  We slept in a dark spot that ended up being not far from the road.  Cars zoomed by periodically and startled us.  It was also quite warm this night and sleeping in my 30 degree bag had me waking up covered in sweat.

Oh well, it worked.  We woke up and ate a crude breakfast and headed back to the trailhead.  We ate a little more at the trailhead, divvied up the gear, and headed out.  Our goal this time was the Southwest Buttress on South Early Winter Spire.  If we had the time and energy, we thought we’d do the easy route on North Early Winter Spire, thereby climbing all of the major spires this weekend.  The Southwest Buttress route is a grade III so we expected to be done sometime in the mid to late afternoon.  Getting to the route featured a minor problem solved by a clever rappel rig.  At the base of the route, I anchored in to bomber trees and Robert headed off for the 5.8 crack.  The crack felt pretty easy, the hardest part being right at the beginning.  All it takes is balance and cool nerves, but you get the sensation that the crack wants to spit you out.  A few moves up and the climbing becomes easier.  It was a little wide for me to jam effectively so I ended up smearing up the face.

Robert was sitting at a beautiful belay station at the base of the second pitch.  I decided to lead out and also to string the next two pitches together.  The first part was up another crack, rated 5.4, I think.  At the top, I had to climb hard to the right so I placed a sling high on a tree as a directional to reduce rope drag.  The third pitch is rated 5.6+ and Beckey calls it “nervous”.  5.6+ Old School!  Well, I hadn’t read that but that was quite the accurate description.  The climb is an exposed face climb with sparse protection.  I protected at every opportunity that I could, but they were quite spread out which gave it a nice spicy (nervous) flair.  The final move was definitely the scariest for me.  Standing with a single foot on a small nub and both hands gripping on tiny nubs, I realized I was at least 15 feet above my last piece and had to move laterally another 10 feet along very thing rock to a crack with a sturdy looking little tree growing out.  Well, I knew I couldn’t easily downclimb, plus, I just had one more move to make…don’t give up!  I stretched my right leg way out to a small nub.  Unfortunately, the part of my shoe that I needed to smear had a hole in it!  It held though and I felt my heart in my throat as I put my weight on it and made the quick move to the thank-God hold in the crack.  Whew!  I slung the tree, clipped, and climbed up to the belay.

Robert led the next pitch, the “Bear Hug”!  Easy pitch.  Protect with a 3.5 cam in the right crack and go!  The climbing is easy and Robert cranked through it in 30 seconds.  I followed in the same style.  Easy and fun stuff!  Easy ground got us to another exposed pitch which I led.  Being 5.4 though, it was a cruise.  This was a long pitch that led us to the “Rabbit Ears”, one more pitch to go to the summit.  Robert led out for the last pitch, crossing over the miserable looking gully and climbed up the fun 5.2 crack.  Interesting that this was 5.2 and the previous pitch was 5.4.  While this was an easy pitch, I thought it was a little more technical than the previous pitch and though it deserved the 5.4 rating.  No matter, we were at the top.

We took a nice rest on the top.  Looking over at the route on North Early Winter Spire, we saw lots of sandy moves.  The gully certainly didn’t sweeten the deal either.  The heck with it!  We decided to head out and drive to “Good Food” for some burgers and shakes.  This was a fun trip.  I really enjoyed an easier weekend that didn’t feature a typical brutal Cascade approach.  Oh yeah, Georgia (my cat), was taking a nap in the backyard when we drove up to my house in the evening.

Slesse Mountain – Northeast Buttress

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Aidan, Michael, and I, the “Three Amigos”, discussed climbing Slesse Mountain together via the famous Northeast Buttress route shortly after we completed the Pickets Traverse.  Summer ended rather abruptly last year stopping those plans, but the time came to make the trip exactly one year later.  Our plan was to drive up to the trailhead past Chiliwack, British Columbia, and park one car at the Slesse Creek trailhead and then drive the other to the Nesakwatch Creek parking area where we’d sleep the night before.  The following day, we’d make the approach and climb halfway up the buttress to the bivy sites, and make the final climb and descent the following day.

This climb made me a little antsy.  Was I ready for something this big and committing?  This was one of the more serious Alpine Rock climbs of the Fifty North American Classics.  At dinner in Chiliwack, I asked Michael and Aidan if they were at all nervous.  They both said, “Nah.”  That at least calmed me down a little.  Back at the trailhead, we were a little confused by a sign which indicated that the Slesse trail was further up the road, while the guidebooks clearly indicated that the trail leaving the parking lot was the correct one.  Michael and I hiked up the rocky road a way, trying a little investigative work before we turned in before the big day.  Well, we didn’t discover anything so we returned intent on at least walking the standard trail in the morning.

After a pleasant night in the not-too-scenic camping area, we headed off down the trail.  Pretty soon, the trail took us down to Nesakwatch Creek where the trail abruptly ended.  After a minute or two of fretting over where to go, we concluded that because there was no bridge in sight both upstream and downstream, we should trust the sign and continue hiking up the road.  Some minutes later on the road, we did see a faint trail turnoff when descended steeply back to the creek and crossed on a solid fallen tree.  The trail then climbed steeply back up where it met up with the abandoned logging road.  We had received beta that the easy approach to the base of the climb took a mere hour.  That was way off.  It would take two and a half hours, not bad, but the alder had encroached on most of the trail and, despite the clear night, was soaking wet.  So, yet again, we enjoyed pushing through the dripping trail with branches slapping us in the face depositing wet drops that clung to our noses, ears, eye lashes, and aggravated.  I think it was really just me, but I got irritated at the approach!  The Slesse Memorial sign, commemorating the 1956 plane crash was a good spot to stop and take a gander at the massive route.  Beyond, more wet trail awaited us on the way to the grassy knoll and the Propeller Cairn.  We took a short break at the cairn then set off for the Pocket Glacier.

There’s a steep notch used to access the Pocket Glacier.  The super slippery descent from the notch was actually a little nervy for me.  We reached the Pocket Glacier without incident though.  It had thankfully released most of it’s ice.  There was a little bit still at the very top, so we didn’t wait around too long.  We’d all heard the stories of ice shifting frequently.  The Pocket Glacier cirque had probably the most granite I’d ever seen.  If you imagine a rough cube, there was granite on all sides except two:  above us and behind us.  It provided some pretty interesting echo opportunities.  The bypass ledge to get to the start of the climb was very obvious and again quite nervy up high.  There was one moment where Michael and Aidan were well in front of me (I’d been filming) and I made a super exposed and scary step across in my tennis shoes (no heavy boots for this trip) without any handholds.  “Oh my God!”, I thought.  “These guys didn’t even flinch at this move.  Am I ready for this?”  Turns out they’d found an easier way.  OK, no more of that, I was ready to rope up.  However, we continued climbing up less exposed, but still 5th class, slabs beyond the traditional rope up spot to a ledge where the climbing became serious enough to warrant roping up.  OK, we were here!  Finally!  Let’s get down to business.

Aidan took off on the first pitch, a 5.6 slab that was pretty much impossible to protect for a long stretch.  It required getting your nerves ready to go right away.  The pitch was fairly short, and, with the exception of the slab, was quite easy.  I led out on the next pitch, which was similar:  mostly easy climbing with a few 5.7/5.8 moves.  Aidan and I swung two more leads, each one started to get a little more sustained in difficulty.  Aidan led a fifth pitch up to the spot where we could bypass the crux on more 5.7.  But, Michael really wanted to lead the crux and he did a fine job of it.  It was super quality climbing and pretty challenging, definitely harder than the upper crux pitches I thought, but reasonably rated.  It was the sustained nature of the pitch that made it challenging.  The first part was a fun crack for about 30-40 feet.  The crux was exiting the crack onto conglomerate rock which formed a roof to be dealt with.  There were many pieces of the puzzle to put together – short steps here, quick bumps on handholds there – in order to complete the roof.  Once above the roof, the climb becomes very much like Canary at Castle Rock in Leavenworth – 5.8 exposed thin face climbing.

Now, it was pretty tricky for Aidan and I to follow.  We opted to climb on a single rope, with both followers tied within 15-20 feet of each other, following together.  This was pretty tough climbing to remain synchronized on.  A few times Aidan had to keep moving while I was fiddling with ideas on how to get through the roof and ended up getting some significant slack in the rope.  A fall would have yanked me off as well, though Michael kept a good belay going.  Needless to say, it sketched Aidan out a little.  When we arrived at the belay, Aidan needed to head out next (since he was at the end).  But, he obviously wasn’t too into it.  I volunteered but when Aidan saw the hassle, he went into his serious get-it-done mode and headed off.  Aidan did the same thing on Mount Terror.  When he gets a little weirded, he shifts into a serious mode then blasts through hard stuff really fast.  On this pitch, he continued up exposed 5.7 face climbing up to a ledge.  At the ledge was, what I thought, the hardest move on the climb:  a short strenuous 5.9 lieback.  I came up over that move panting.  “Dang, Aidan!  Nice job!”

At the top of this pitch, Michael opted to lead off again.  It was now about 3 in the afternoon and we suspected that we were very close to the bivy sites.  This was another fun pitch, rated 5.8+.  The Beckey topo described it as a strenuous lieback (I don’t think he was talking about the previous one).  Well, it wasn’t strenuous at all.  I recall a fun, solid crack with flakes all the way up to the top.  At the top, I immediately saw the famous view from the bivy of the upper buttress.  We’d arrived!

I’d lobbied hard for the bivy option.  It turned out we could have done the route in a day, but we probably would have needed to sleep on the summit and that would not have been too comfortable.  Plus, more importantly, I wanted to have a lot of time to relax on the mountain.  And what better place to enjoy some downtime than halfway up the Northeast Buttress of Slesse Mountain?  Turns out this was a great choice.  We had an awesome time just hanging out and taking it easy for many hours before the sun went down.  We drank from the pools of snow melt, filled our bottles, gawked at the ridiculous exposure over the east face, listened to music, joked around, etc.  Highly recommended!

Michael has a few pictures on his website of the bivy:

Precipitous drops from the bivy
The view of the final section of the buttress

After a long sleep and a leisurely start, Michael led out over the long sections of 4th class and brief encounters of 5th class.  Above the leaning tower, we re-racked and Michael led out again.  This was another 5.8+ pitch.  For the most part, it was pretty easy.  It started out as a crack and I thought the crux was, again, exiting out of the crack onto careful traverse moves near the crest.  Above that, I led out on the 5.7 “Rotten Pillar” pitch.  It was pretty easy, not being very sustained.  The only hard move was a delicate traverse above the pillar.

Above this pitch was the crux of the standard route (not including the 5.10 direct buttress pitch) – a 5.9 roof with an amazing 5.8 below it.  This, in my opinion, was the best pitch of the climb:  very steep, super bomber flakes.  The roof was big fun too – overhanging, but every hold was there.  This kind of climbing was just a joy to experience!  I led off for the next pitch, the exposed 5.7.  I ended up stringing this pitch along with the next one, a 5.6 pitch with a roof at the very end that deposited you on to the “Slesse Sheraton”, a great (small!) bivy site for two people.  You’d better be clipped in on this one.  Anyway, this was my favorite lead and my second favorite pitch.  The climbing was sustained 5.7 and super exposed.  The great void below me yawned and prompted me to protect this pitch frequently (as Aidan pointed out).  Near the top was another roof to surmount.  I climbed up to feel out the roof before placing any gear.  At this point, I was running low on gear.  I climbed back down, satisfied that this was the route and that I could do this without unreasonable difficulty.  So, I placed the cam in a marginal shallow crack, and went for it – ended up being really easy.  I was at the Sheraton.  I brought Michael and Aidan up and we all raved at our surroundings.

Aidan led out on the next pitch, the second to the last.  In the Beckey topo, it was listed as “moderate and fun” for 160 feet.  Aidan could have made it moderate by going left, but opted for fun by going straight up.  Great choice!  The climbing was mostly up a steep wall with good holds, probably 5.7/5.8.  Michael then led off for the final pitch, which was one more money 5.8 pitch.  The first part was very much like a Vantage climb at the Feathers – horizontally jagged rock with a crack in a dihedral.  Beyond that, was a very fun, ultra exposed, step across to gain easier ground.  Walking 50 feet on the easy ground gave way to the final short 5th class climbing to the summit.

So we were at last sitting on the summit of Slesse!  What a feeling!  We lounged around for maybe thirty minutes.  Everyone (well, not me) was eager to get going.

I won’t bother describing the descent in much detail.  It’s something I’d rather forget anyway.  It’s a hot, dry, steep, unyielding piece of work.  My left knee was really irritating me and I often gasped or howled at shock of the pain as we descended.  Thankfully, I brought poles or maybe Aidan and Michael would have had to carry me out (well, not really but still!)  We ran out of water early and were parched by the time we arrived at the bottom.  The abandoned logging road never seemed to end – and it went uphill!  The alders all around often blocked the sun but kept the heat in.  When we finally found some water splashing down a steep boulder along moss, Michael and I succumbed and drank straight from the source.  Aidan resisted the temptation (guess we’ll find out if that was worth it) but ended up essentially showering in the splashes.  I think that water gave me the energy though to actually enjoy the remainder of the hike out.  At the standard trailhead though, we still had maybe a mile or more of hiking to get to the car (my car didn’t have the clearance to go the whole way) and the process was repeated back at Nesakwatch (although I ended up staying and “guarding” the car).

Overall, this was a superb climb, my favorite to date, no doubt.  In 2003, my favorite climb was Triumph.  In 2004, it was Terror.  This year, it’s Slesse, and it trumps them all!

Interesting Facts:

“Fang” is English for “Slesse”
Michael hummed and whistled the theme to Jurassic Park during the trip
The Northeast Buttress is in the top 25 of the “Fifty Classics of North America”
Michael didn’t get stung once

The Torment Forbidden Traverse – Day 2

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Day 2:  The West Ridge of Forbidden Peak

After a quiet night out on the ridge, I slowly pushed my head out of the bag to see that the sun was coming up.  I sat up a little to see Aidan waking up as well.  I grabbed the camera and took a couple of shots.  Only a few seconds later, the sun popped over the mountains and started heating up our alpine pad.  After a leisurely breakfast, we strapped on the ‘pons and headed down the snow slopes.  At a small crevasse, we started turning up the steep snow.  There were tracks to follow.  Not that it made much difference, but at least we didn’t have to put in the complete effort of kicking new steps.  The snow was easy and was great to get us back on the ridge in a short amount of time.  From here, it was 3rd and 4th class ridge running on the crest for a half mile at least.

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At another gendarme, the climbing steepened and the exposure increased.  We opted to rope up here and simul-climb to the base of the West Ridge of Forbidden.   Beyond 80 feet of the difficulties, most of the climbing was again 4th class.  I was leading and, trying to stay on the ridge crest, I led us up and over another gendarme.  The downclimbing was quite tricky and I slowed down quite a bit to find the best route and to protect well for my buds.  I kept thinking that it wouldn’t get any harder, but it did.  But, I could see the base of the ridge where we needed to be, so I persisted.  In retrospect, it would have been easier to just retreat and find an easier way down (both Robert and Aidan eagerly pointed out there was one!).  Oh well, we all got down safely after a couple of alpine 5.8 downclimb moves.

Some easy scrambling got us to the base of the West Ridge where folks had left packs, boots, and the like.  Aidan opted to take the next lead on the understanding that I’d get to take the second!  He zipped up the mountain making very fast progress.  After a little more than 15 minutes, we were nearly halfway up where he stopped and we swung the lead.  We were just below the 5.6 move and there was another party just above it.  “You’re a southern gentleman, Theron.  They’ll let you pass.”, quipped Aidan.  Yeah, ok.  So, I headed off.  Now, apparently there were a couple of pins that I was supposed to see, but instead, the step was so fun and I thought it would look neat on film that my only thought was, “Hey Robert, get some footage of this!”.  I climbed up a steep traversing crack to the left, placed a solid cam, and pulled around the corner where I saw a big rappel anchor.  The other party had gone on the move again, apparently it was a guided party.  The guide would go about 50-100 feet and then belay the clients in.  I tried to find a place to pass, but I couldn’t really.  When I caught up to them again, there was another party descending and we were simply forced to hang out on the ridge for a while.  Finally, we were on the move again, but I still couldn’t pass.  Then, the party opted to go up to what looked like the true summit.  Robert then hollered, “Hey, go left!”  So, I traversed around the steep false summit to the spot where all the pictures are taken, just below the true summit.  A couple of easy moves saw us at the true summit.

Our descent decision was down the east ledges.  That way we’d get a full tour of Forbidden and could also avoid the crowds on the West Ridge.  I’ve heard all sorts of rumors about the east ledges descent route, that’s it’s really scary and exposed and so on.  Then again, I’ve also heard that it’s not that bad.  So, after doing it, my opinion is it’s no big deal at all.  I had the benefit of being with two people who had already descended this way.  But still, it’s pretty straightforward.  We had to make five, maybe six, rappels straight down.  We had a 50m rope and the first rappel sent us straight to the next rappel station.  However, all of them after that required a little downclimbing.  Robert hypothesized that they must have been recently reset because the beta we had talked about a 50m rope being enough.  No matter, the downclimbing was always only 4th class.  At the base of the last rappel, we headed straight across crossing various ribs.  About 100 feet below the solitary gendarme, we headed up alongside a prominent gully.  There was no reason to get in the gully; it was much cleaner climbing above it.  At the top, we were finally back on walkable terrain where we put up our gear, harnesses, and rope.

The descent back to the upper camps was time consuming but easy.  We did have to retrace our steps once when we boot skiied too far down and got cliffed out.  Downclimbing another steep ridge saw us to more snow where we were able to boot ski down to the basin.  After lots of traversing and descending on slabs, we arrived back at the stream under the waterfall where we had breaked the day before.  We rested here for a long time, our friends the horseflies were back in force.  Aidan and I dunked our feet and heads in the water – what a relief!  Everyone then put on mp3 players and hiked down.  The hike down at first was pleasant and I gawked at the views of Johannesburg directly in front of us.  Man, I can’t believe I was on that thing last year!  Boston Basin is truly one of the most beautiful spots in the Cascades.  It was a treat to see it in full sunlight.  However, down lower, I’d be cursing that sunlight!  The black flies came back again and started harassing us.  On top of that, it was so abysmally hot! I wondered if I’d ever been this hot before.  It was nearly impossible to stop though as the flies would swarm and nearly eat us alive.  Thankfully, this approach is an “easy” Cascades approach and we were back at the car after not much time.  But, changing clothes and sorting gear was hell with those damn black flies not giving us a moment of peace.  What a great trip this was…I couldn’t think of that at the time though.  It didn’t come soon enough that we were in the car with the windows open trying to get every last fly out!

Mount Redoubt

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This was an axe kicker!  When I go climbing with Robert or Michael, I hardly ever suggest the climb.  I’m always up for whatever they want to do because it’s all new to me. Redoubt, however, was one I suggested it a few times to both Robert and Michael.  It looked to have all the things that I liked in a mountain climb: a remote location, a challenging route, and a cool approach.  I was especially interested in the approach because, being a big fans of waterfalls, we had to pass in front of one of the biggest falls in the Cascades, Depot Creek Falls.

However, the three of us were worried about the route.  The Northeast Face is not in shape for very long and this year had been a particularly low snow year, which probably meant that the route was inaccessible due to bergeshrunds. However, we heard a rumor that the snow problem was mostly limited to Washington, and the Canadian peaks had a more normal snow year.  With Redoubt being just south of the border, we decided to take advantage of the nice weekend and go for it.  We also took an additional day of vacation since most everyone suggests doing it in three days (a good idea).

We left Seattle haphazardly, around 10am, and crossed the border where a surly border agent made us laugh at how seriously he took himself.  The final part of the road to the trailhead was pretty rough for a Cascades road, though merely average for a Colorado road.  The first part of the hike required moving along a system of logging roads, which featured a short rocky stretch, then a turn left up a short old growth section, then a turn right and a two mile hike through a formerly logged area with lots of intrusive brush.  We were just coming off of some foul weather and, while the leaves on the earlier trails were dry, these were pretty wet and we naturally got wet.  Finally, we broke out of industrial Canada into the old growth forests of the US which was marked with a miniature Washington monument marking the trail.  Michael sang a stirring rendition of “God Bless America”.

The trail up through the dark Depot Creek valley was pretty good.  There were a few windfalls to negotiate on the knees.  After a while, it started to drag. Man, when were we getting to these falls?  I think we were sandbagged by a climber who said it took them 3 hours to get to the top of the falls (we wouldn’t make that time).  We passed a party after a long amount of time who informed us that the falls were still an hour and a half away. They were pretty accurate.  Finally, the trail started working up steeply and I could see the white of the falls in the distance.  The rumblings got louder and we emerged into a section of the trail that went through dense slide alder.  We all paused here looking quite spent already and we still had another 1000 feet very steeply up to get to the top of the falls.  The trail continued up, partially moving through the creek along more slide alder.

Finally, we were at the infamous slab crossing in front of the base of the massive falls.  The rope used to get up to the top of the slabs made it a lot easier.  The slabs, though, felt like ice, especially in plastic boots.  I had to move very carefully to ensure that I had either solid hand hold or solid foot holds while being blasted by icy spray from the falls.  It was hard to be patient, but we all chose cold and wet over a potential slip.  Above the crossing, the trail steeply climbed up alongside the falls.  This majority of the falls is a straight shot down a steep granite slide that bends right at the end. Because of the bend, you can’t see the complete falls from the ground.  The trail though follows literally just to the left of the waterslide for hundreds of feet.  We arrived at a talus field where we had a view of the upper falls which was the prettiest part of the falls – a 2-300 foot straight drop from the basin above.

More steep climbing up treacherous talus saw us at the basin, finally. Both Robert and I were behind Michael a few minutes. I burned a lot of time filming and photographing the falls.  Unfortunately, I didn’t get any video of the lower falls because it was just too wet and my camera refused to work.  At the top of the basin, Michael pranced across the trail with an eerie childlike laugh. He had some weird blond wig on his head…what?  He was doing a fabulous impression of the child Mordred from “Excalibur” (the wig was a greenish long moss hanging from the trees).  I had to throw my pack down and start laughing despite my exhaustion.  Then he pointed up – Mount Redoubt!  Dang, it looked scary.  The clouds swirled around the summit and the route, periodically hiding both.  The Northeast Face, being accentuated by the mystical clouds, looked super steep.

After checking the beta, we opted to go higher to Lake Ouzel and camp there.  We rationalized that while it was longer, it would be easier to descend the mountain.  We cut across the basin, through semi-marshy ground to the opposite side along talus.  Beyond a short forested section, we had at least a half mile moraine to hike up.  We were already tired and the moraine only lengthened the suffering.  Finally, we were standing above the lake.  I settled on a spot along the shore that required crossing a couple of deep streams.  With some grumbling, the fellas finally arrived.

Ouzel Lake is a desolate spot.  The lake is filled with glacial silt and there’s not much around the lake other than sand and soft mud with short grass.  We didn’t see any wildlife.  Anyway, from here we could see where we needed to go the following day.

We got up the following morning around 4:30 or so and were off pretty quickly.  We had to hike around the lake and started up the slopes leading to glacial slabs underneath the Redoubt glacier.  We crossed through a prominent ridge at a notch and started ascending to the Depot Glacier.  Michael was feeling spunky and was consistently in front of Robert and I (we were pretty short on prior training and exercise).  We roped up and started laterally across the middle part of the glacier.  From below, the glacier looked quite broken, but it went pretty easily.  Higher up would have been even easier.  After a couple of short steep sections, we arrived at the base of the snow apron.  Michael found a nice belay station in a ‘shrund.

Michael set off for the first pitch eager to see what the snow was like.  It turned out to be great for kick stepping with solid ice axe placements.  The neat thing about this route is that the angle is consistently 50-55 degrees and is virtually never any lower.  The exposure is nice and airy and tugs at you the higher you go.  The ice axe placements went deep.  I set out for the second pitch and placed a picket nearly 1/2 a rope length out.  Near the end of the rope, I couldn’t find a decent belay; the snow had become sloppy corn.  I was at least able to get big steps, but the ice axe placements were lousy.  At one point, I had to sweep loads of snow away.  My partners complained!  I decided to head over to one of the icy blocks on the right where I was able to stand comfortably next to a large serac.  It was out of the sun and quite chilly.  Michael and Robert followed rapidly and Michael set out right away while Robert and I stayed and shivered.

Michael led a shorter pitch over a few ice bumps to yet another ‘shrund filled with sloppy snow.  I headed out for the final pitch of the snow apron over the delicate knife edge of the shrund.  Large sections of it broke away.  Once I was out of there, I could head up comfortably kick stepping until I was finally on the mellow ridge.  I placed a directional picket and continued up to a knoll near the base of the rock.  I decided to stop here since a decision needed to be made about what to do next:  more snow or rock?

I lobbied for rock since my feet were soaked.  I wasn’t anticipating on the snow being so messy.  I was outvoted though it was probably a good thing (the final steep snow would go quickly).  Michael led the time-consuming traverse which transitioned awkwardly to rock.  We simul-climbed up and stopped at a ledge where Michael would belay Robert up the first pitch of the final snow slope.  Robert negotiated a fifth class downclimb to get to the snow.  He opted not to put on crampons for the initial part and relied on deep kick steps to get up to another belay stance in a moat.  Michael and I followed up where I suggest that Robert “finish what ya started”.

Robert headed up the last section moving along the rim of the moat at first then transitioning on to the steep face.  He kicked super deep steps (hey, preshate that!) but they were super wide as well and it was awkward for me to follow.  Michael and I also had a good laugh watching his leg fly way back and pound into the snow.  At the top of the snow we took a short break.  I switched out my soaked socks for my dry rock climbing liners.  Well, my feet were dry for a little while at least.  We downclimbed into and across a gully and climbed delicate rock up to a prominent ledge which we followed around and met up with the standard route.  The climb from here is a dirty 4th class scramble.  We anticipated no snow so we left our axes.  Of course, we did right below the cannon hole so I blasted more steps in the snow.  The steps and some wide stemming saw us through the little tunnel and out onto the exposed north face where a final 100 feet of scrambling brought us to the summit – at last!

Various guidebooks described Mount Redoubt as a tough descent but it really didn’t take much more than patience and persistence.  There were no technical difficulties, only long sections of talus and snow.  We passed under the Flying Buttress to the ridge which held the Redoubt Glacier.  A hefty jump from above and we were on our way down the mellow glacier.  We got a little lazy and didn’t rope up through a short section of crevasses and were back on the slabs that we had crossed earlier in the morning.  Michael and I got back to camp a few minutes before Robert and we saw him attempting to cross the lake at its drainage, trying to cut off the distance.  That wasn’t going to happen unless he was willing to swim so he reluctantly settled for the hike around the lake back to camp.  I think we were back sometime around 7pm.  I couldn’t imagine hiking out that night and am glad we opted to take the suggested three days to climb the mountain.

We slept late the following morning prepared for the exhausting hike.  Exhausting it was.  My shins were bruised from the plastic boots.  I think it will take a very special mountain for me to wear plastics on another Cascade approach.  Finally, after the long miles in the dark forest, we were back in Canada and retrieved the stashed salmon and beers that Robert had graciously provided.  Very tasty, but it wouldn’t be complete until we took a dip in Chiliwack Lake.  The other swimmers gawked at us crazy Yankees hooting and hollering in the cold water.  Even Michael joined in.  Mount Redoubt towered in the distance.  It was a fitting final view of the mountain.