Pickets Traverse – Day 2

Posted on August 8, 2004 by Theron

I awoke slowly in the dank dark forest to the voices of the other party packing up and heading out. I recall looking over and seeing the big backpacks heading out. I went back to sleep for a bit then got up. For the most part, I awoke before Aidan or Michael and usually just lounged around until they got up. After all, “men need their rest and the rest means prone!” Once I heard them stirring, I went and recovered the food from the ad hoc bear line. After the typical spartan breakfast consisting of a cheery bar, we headed off. We knew this day would be another tedious day. Whereas the first was a day of a lot of miles on a nice trail, this one was a only a few miles on no trail, with the first mile or mile and a half consisting of a steep bushwhack. We left the trail and followed our noses up. Lower down, the hiking wasn’t too bad. There was plenty of hiking through wet brush but the blueberries at least made it pleasant sometimes. The brush yielded to heavier timber as the way became increasingly steeper. The other party was in front of us, within earshot, we kept pace with them, for the most part until a most unfortunate account that I am loath to recall – Michael being strapped to the pillory and whipped by the yellow jackets. Ug, it was awful. It’s unclear who stepped on them, Michael or me. I was in the front and it’s a common rural legend that the person in front steps on the nest in the ground and the follower pays the price. Anyway, the problem was that Michael didn’t, or rather couldn’t thanks to the incline, get away fast enough. He must have been stung 10-15 times over the period of about 3 minutes. All Aidan and I could do was stand and listen. We did supply him with 800 mg of Ibuprofen to help with the swelling. Mental note: Benedryl for next time. I thought perhaps the trip might abort at this point, but Michael, being the positive alpinist he is, carried on.

Pressing on, we arrived in denser brush again, much denser than below and we took to grasping of roots, a technique engrained after Johannesburg Mountain, to move ourselves up the steep terrain. After some scrambling, in which I nearly slipped, on some steep boulders, we caught up with the other group of five that had camped near us, although they had lost one member – he had hiked out that morning because he’d somehow lost a helmet on the hike in to Beaver Pass. They had heard Michael hollering below. We ended up passing them and pressing on through the sparse forest. We had finally arrived above most of the trees and the views were starting to open up.

The sun beat down on us forced us into numerous rests. After our lunch stop, where we had our first excellent and sobering views of the north buttress of Fury, we stopped two additional times at small lakes to slurp water. The second one was most pleasant. Aidan and I dunked our heads and dropped our shirts into the water. We took a long break and headed off again. I think the distance on Wiley Ridge is only something like 7 miles or so, but the hiking moved slowly for us. We made the mistake of staying low and that forced us into a lot of cliffy downclimbs. The best approach would have been to stay on the broad ridge crest for the first part (except for the prominent sub peak (pt. 6955) that you see shortly after exiting on to tundra), and then drop down a dirt gully before Eiley Lake. The ridge is indeed block by sheer cliffs above Eiley Lake – we had to descend to it.

A miscommunication in which Aidan and I became separated from Michael cemented the idea to not take any more chances on “shortcut” traverses. After Eiley Lake, we went high and stayed high and we were able to finish the hike to camp relatively quickly.

We arrived above Wiley Lake, which was still 75% frozen over. We moved on to the glacier on the right side and continued up the glacier making for another subpoint (pt. 7,374) just before the Challenger Glacier. It looked possible to pass the point on the left but the map doesn’t show a prominent notch. The left side was sheer cliffs and we instead moved through a small notch on the left side of the subpoint. Through the notch, we went right and up (above picture) when finally led us to gentle slopes which we followed down to the Challenger Glacier. I dropped my pack and ran down the slope and found a pretty sweet spot for us with running glacier water. This would be our Challenger Camp.

We had arrived sometime around 7pm, if I recall. That was later than we’d anticipated but still with enough time to relax and enjoy the pleasant camp before the sun went down. I cleaned up in the glacier water, nearly frostbiting my fingers again after washing my socks! Dinner again was most welcome and delicious. Because we were on big granite glacial slabs, we all ended up sleeping under the stars this night; not just me!

On to day 3.

Pickets Traverse- Day 1

Posted on August 7, 2004 by Theron

Intro: This is a tough trip report to write, not due to the length but my inability to sufficiently capture just how great of a trip it was. This was indeed a trip of a lifetime. I almost feel like I can say I could happily retire from climbing now! As we thought, the trip included exciting climbing, great unknowns, exhausting hiking, spectacular scenery, and welcomed comraderie. We each also experienced our own stresses at different times. For these times we were thankful for the comraderie. Like the Ptarmigan Traverse last year, we planned the individual camps and stuck to them, for the most part, with satisfying consistency. Of course, this traverse was much more serious than the Ptarmigan.

Almost immediately after the Ptarmigan Traverse, Michael and I proposed the idea of traversing the Pickets. A few months before the trip, we finalized the plan: We would hike from Hannegan Pass to Whatcom Pass, over Whatcom Peak to Mount Challenger, descend into the remote Luna Cirque and climb Mount Fury’s north buttress. From there, we would descend the south side of Fury to the Picket Pass/Mustard Lake area and ascend the north buttress of Mount Terror. From there, we’d descend the standard route and hike out Terror Creek to Goodell Creek, possibly climbing The Chopping Block on the way out. This plan was set until the last week when we decided for a hike in from Big Beaver Pass. One compelling reason for this change was that our car shuttle would suddenly be much simpler. We’d also be gaining a nominally shorter hike with less elevation gain. Our price was adding extra bushwhacking, up to Wiley Ridge, to the trip. The car shuttle argument won out. Also, during the last week, we added a third member, Aidan Haley, who was a most welcome third member of our party. On a trip such as this, a third person really made the party complete, certainly he didn’t make it a crowd!

Day 1: The hike to Beaver Pass

The standard route to Beaver Pass is of course from Big Beaver trail. One can hike to that trailhead which is over 7 miles from Ross Lake. Or one can pay $25 to have a water taxi ferry them and their gear the seven miles in about 15-20 minutes to the Big Beaver trailhead. It was no contest, we’d take the water taxi. After parking Michael’s car at the tiny Goodell Creek parking, we left my car at the commodious Ross Lake parking lot, readied our packs, double checked everything, then made the approximate mile hike down to the lake. From there I used the Ross Lake Resort phone to call the water taxi. I had to try no less than twenty times until I got the busy line to ring. We lolligagged around the dock for a several minutes before the water taxi showed up. We threw our gear on and handed the boatman $25 and were on our way.

The taxi quickly dumped us on the remote shore and sped off. “Savor it, boys. There’s no turning back now…well, except for hiking back 7 miles, but forget that!” It was 11:20 AM and now fourteen miles of forest and 2000 feet of elevation gain (mostly at the end) lay between us and our camp. We should be able to make it by nightfall easy, we thought. Thankfully, the trail is excellent the entire way. We only got confused once when we took the trail into the horsecamp. I guess we should have noticed the horseshoe on the trail marker.

The path was wide and gentle and we made good progress. For the most part, our packs were no bigger than they were for the Ptarmigan Traverse, maybe even smaller. We were going very light. Our only shelter was a Black Diamond Betamid, which would be pretty crowded if all three of had to fit in. Our forecast, however, looked perfect. Apparently, the day before had been quite wet. There were still some lingering wet clouds to prove it. But thankfully, the trail and foliage was dry. Little did we know that two parties ahead of us had absobed much water earlier in the day. The sun, I suppose and hope, evaporated the rest. Good thing the only remaining reservation was 11AM. What serendipity – good fortune that followed us for the entire trip.

The trail was delightful and at the same time claustrophobic. We only rarely got glimpses up valleys and only at the end of the day, as we were ascending the switchbacks to the pass, did we see sparse views of Luna Peak and the Northern Pickets. At least that was something. The hike went quickly for me; I broke the monotony with a little entertainment from my mp3 player. I felt pretty good though when we arrived at the turnoff for Luna Camp though – the ten mile point. Progress was coming along quite reasonably and we would easily make Big Beaver Pass well before the sun went down. The break at Luna Camp was most welcomed. Aidan’s boots were already giving him trouble (a common malady that he’s used to dealing with). A couple of small blisters were forming. By the end of the trip, he would have many. How many was it? At least ten, I think.

After enticing views of the Northern Pickets along the switchbacks, we pulled into camp. We passed a duo at the glorified lean-to that is Big Beaver shelter who were set on climbing Challenger on our same scedule. Next to our camp was a party of five that was planning another ambitious trip: a climb of Challenger as well, then moving across the valley to climb Luna and Fury and then out through Access Creek. The camp was still a little damp and dimly lit – the late afternoon sun could barely penetrate the boughs of the massive evergreens. After a satisfying meal, a quick cleanup, and some conversation with our neighbors, we were ready for a good night sleep. I opted to sleep out under the stars, or rather the pine boughs, while Aidan and Michael slept in the Betamid.

On to day 2.

Johannesburg Mountain

Posted on July 25, 2004 by Theron

We picked the hottest weekend of the year to climb Johannesburg. But, what was more important was that we chose a weekend with a perfect forcast. Good choice – I would never want to be stuck up on this route in bad weather. After climbing this dubious route on this monster mountain, the words of Robert hearken back: <paraphrasing> “Every Cascade climber should experience Johannesburg – but just once”. I’m proud I finished the climb and I’ll never do this one again. The upper part of the climb was asoundingly alpine and the thought of imagining myself in such an outrageous setting only added to the grandeur. The lower buttress, on the other hand, was atrocious, with its continuous steep and brushy cliffs. On top of that, protection is sparse. The safest part of the climbing is in the dense timber where you can sling big tree branches clinging onto cliffs. The cliffs themselves are exceptionally stingy with protectable spots.

We drove up Friday evening for a car camp at the Cascade Pass trailhead. A few weekends earlier on a climb up Sahale and Boston basin, we had to hike the road three extra miles to this location. Thankfully, it was fixed now. If you wish to climb Johannesburg, the least you can do is allow yourself the luxury of a 20 minute hike to the base of the climb. We pulled into the moderately crowded parking lot late and set up our sleeping bags on level picnic tables.

I awoke the following morning and looked over to Michael’s table to see no one there. Where’d he go? A rustle of the grass behind me caused me to turn where Michael approached with a big smile. The “Calm Before the Storm”, I called it. We both knew we’d be in for an exceptionally strenous day. We set off by walking around to the point in the road that was closest to the snow runnoff from the Cascade-Johannesburg (CJ) couloir, downclimbed to the small creek and up over talus to the snow. We saw another party in front of us, intent upon the buttress as well. There’s a prominent snow finger that appears to easily access the buttress, but it’s unfortunately surrounded by large moats. Not finding the potential jump savory, we found a preferable crossing above it. A simple jump, accompanied by a distinct sense of one-way, got us on the route. “So it begins”. We set off as the other team belayed each other up onto the route.

We traversed along steep ledges. Almost immediately though, the brush and direct steepness starts. We climbed a long section of it unroped, allowing us to get a lot of space between the other party who were still belaying below. The climbing quickly became too steep for unroped climbing and we stopped to rectify the problem.

Our first goal was to get up to a prominent snowpatch that marked a distinct point where you could either take the western or eastern variation on the Northeast Buttress. Our plan was to take the western variation. A lot of ground lay between us and the snowpatch though. Looking back, the scariest climbing was certainly on the lower part of the buttress before the snowpatch. At one point, after a few pitches of steep brushy climbing where we adopted the habit of grasping at branches and bushes to help us up, we entered a brushy gully with a rocky bottom where we could cover ground more quickly. I recall wearing my leather gloves for sections of the gully where I was breaking devils club to clear a way and using the lower branches as handholds. We continued to follow this gully steeply up. Occasional 5th class moves allowed us to gain shelves where we could see ahead. The angle only increased. Michael led one pitch up that turned out to be too steep. A dicey lower off a sling fastened around a shrub prompted us to turn left and exit the gully. There was virtually no protection here and the natural protection, the brush, was spotty at best. To the left, we could enter timber. After leading us out of the gully and up on border of the gully, Michael took off for a pitch that eventually opened up into thick huckleberry bushes on moderate ground. A hundred yards or so through the brush deposited us at the welcomed snowfield where we took our first break.

We sat and drank longingly for at least thiry minutes. Then, I led off for the western rib variation. There was a rocky cliff in front of us that looked a little intimidating. “More sketchy terrain”, I thought. Actually, it was quite easy; we headed to the right and traversed horizontally and then headed up through several steep timber pitches. These pitches were mostly jungle gym style climbing where most of the holds were branches. Protection was thanfully very easy. All you needed was a handy sling. There were more than enough stout branches to choose from. We climbed and swung our way up the near vertical forest. Michael ended up leading a pitch that took us up a cliff for about one hundred feet that then exited right into dead vertical thick brush. This short section was the thickest brush of the entire climb and was almost like swimming. Taking the dive was exiting the rock and clinging onto branches for dear life and pulling and tugging ourselves into and upward through the brush. Many of the large branches grew straight down and we climbed them much as one climbs, or tries to climb, a rope. Michael brought me up to a belay spot in the trees. I took over and headed further to the right, trending up slightly. I suddenly emerged onto the long-awaited heather slopes.

While the heather wasn’t an end to the thick brush, it was at least a different (and preferred) type of brush. We were done with the devils club and the sappy branches. After another break where we reapplied sunscreen and took in the views, we headed up. The rock tower above us, where our bivy site lay, looked close. However, it was much further away than it appeared. We put away the rope for this section and wended our way up and around. The steep heather and non-stop 3rd and 4th class scrambling didn’t relent.

The heather slowly started to give way to rock. Our next target was the titanium pin that marked the potential rappel into the gully. After a short knife edge section on solid rock, for which we roped up, we arrived at the titanium pin. There were some old but reliable slings left here as well which we promptly claimed (we’d use them on rappels the next day). Slings are valuable on this climb. Our original plans called for going left instead of rappelling down into the gully on the right. One look at the awful gully confirmed this.

Around the left was the “rotten chimney” as described in the “Selected Climbs” book. Well, this was one “5.3″ that would stump us. So, we went further left. Michael accomplished this by a delicate move around a devious corner. The pitch was short and I carefully swung myself around the exposed corner. Some steep and exposed climbing got me up to the belay. I led on up a steep step where I had to dig out a small handhold for my right hand. Once on this, I moved left and trended upward. Again, Johannesburg exhibited the dubious distinction of revealing little protection and I suddenly found myself on sloping ledges with nothing for protection. Not happy at this prospect and realizing the downclimb would be worse, I carefully climbed up to another ledge where I thanked my maker for an anomolous horn on which I could place a reliable sling. Higher up, I belayed Michael and then he left for the final two pitches that would lead us to the snowfield and our camp. We pulled into camp at around 7:45. I recognized it from some of Robert’s pictures. Finally! We took the time to have some dinner, clean up in the small snowmelt stream and let the anxieties of the day wash away. The worst of the climb was over.

Michael woke up too early the following morning (5am) and goaded me to get up. Arrr… At least I’d slept solidly despite my concerns that the ground wasn’t entirely level. I was worried about the exposure on the snow arete on the upcoming glacier section of the climb. Although the pictures I’d seen of it looked reasonable, I read about “calm nerves required” and “exposure” and so on. Well, it turned out to be quite an easy and enjoyable climb up the glacier. I’d insisted on bringing pickets along but Michael had forgotten to pack his. And, what’s worse, I’d left mine back at the car (and I realized after shortly getting on the climb the day before!). Ah well, turns out pickets weren’t needed at all. The snow arete was picturesque and alpine. It was easy enough where my mind could wander and I could appreciate my location. Beyond that, near the crevasses, we roped up. A short and moderately steep headwall led us to level ground. To our left was a large wall of ice which we comfortably passed under. The exposure over the right side led to an ice fall, but the route never exposed us to that. We continued to the opposite side of the glacier under the ice wall and hooked all the way back to the opposite side of the glacier once again before beginning the final bit of steep snow to a snow tongue between to towers, the right one being the true summit.

I was initially a little worried about the steep snow. Something about steep Cascade snow lately has had me a little nervous. Anyway, this too turned out to be quite easy. I led out and ice axe placements were generously deep. Michael swung out under me to lead the final piece of the snow tongue. We entered the moat on the left side. I felt snug between rock and snow. At the top, we finally had the view southward to the Ptarmigan Traverse peaks and Glacier Peak. We kept the rope on for the last bit to the summit and dumped everything else (except the cameras of course). The pitch to the summit was easy – no rope required. We arrived on top a couple of minutes later, about eight in the morning.

The summit register contained four rotten pages dating back to the mid eighties. We found Robert and Jesse’s signatures as well as Colins. Michael recognized other names as well. I really enjoyed the rest up here. I wasn’t as worried about the descent as I was the ascent. We started off for what would be a long, arduous, but reasonable endeavour. The first part was easy enough, albeit tedious. We stayed on the south side of the ridge, maybe 100 feet below the top at most, on relatively comfortable ledges. We crossed numerous ribs and gullys. Once we topped out on the ridge and enjoyed a short thrilling walk on comfortable sidewalks in the sky.

We passed above a steep snowfield (I refused to climb any super steep snow aretes up here) and then further down along more ledges. The descent became more difficult to follow and we had to start scouting ways around steep towers. Eventually, this led to about 7 steep rappels with occasional 3rd class downclimbing to get to the CJ couloir.

On most of the rappels, we couldn’t see the next rappel station, if there was one. So, we spent lots of time looking left and right seeking out horns where we could place a rappel sling or the reassuring sign where someone else had placed one. Once down to the couloir’s top, we felt very happy and relieved. We were officially off of Johannesburg and all that remained now was finding “Doug’s Direct” route over Mixup Peak to the Cache Glacier. First things were first though – we bounded down the gentle snowfield and made for a large boulder that marked an “idyllic brook where one could reconstitute oneself.” Reconstitute we did. We drank our fills and our cups ranneth over. The break was welcomingly long and relaxing.

We traversed grassy slopes past Cascade Peak and the Triplets to the backside of Mixup Peak. From here, we were able to put together landmarks seen from above to devise a plan that would get us to the suspected spot where Doug’s Direct lay. There were three prominent snowfields on the left side of the peak that we would keep to the right of. Steep heather slopes and mixed rock would get us to the ridge. On the steep heather, we occasionally used our ice axe picks to dig into the roots and secure us. We eventually moved onto firm rocks and scrambled our way to the top. “How’s it look?”, yelled Michael when I topped out on the ridge. “This will work!”, I responded. I almost couldn’t believe it, but it appeared that this fabled “Doug’s Direct” existed as reported and would indeed save us the tedious and treacherous route over Gunsight Notch.

Mixup Peak is a long trending ridge with the summit being on the southeastern end. Doug’s Direct is almost on the opposite northwestern end. So, unfortunately, we couldn’t tag another summit just for fun. No matter, it was enough to see that the descent would be a 3rd and maybe 4th class scramble to the top of the Cache Glacier. While snacking on our last food, we spotted a lone traveller on the glacier approaching Cache Col, a little ant of a man. I almost preferred to just rappel this terrain so we wouldn’t have to do any real thinking. But, I yielded and we downclimbed to entire route to the glacier. It went easily with only a few more careful moves. We strapped on crampons for the last time at the top of the glacier. While not steep, this location was thin and slick. We then marched down the glacier and as the terrain became more firm, my energy increased substantially. I suppose this jolt could be credited to a peaceful mind that knew that all the difficulties were over. The remaining hike out was pleasant, and we’d have plenty of sun as well. We took one last break at Cascade Pass set against the whoopings of hidden grouse somewhere in the foliage. On the way down from Cascade Pass we ran into some goats – a mother and kid who opted not to move aside for us; we did instead.

Sahale Peak,Boston Basin Loop

Posted on July 4, 2004 by Theron

This is the story of Ken and Dan’s annual trip to the Pacific Northwest for some mountaineering in the Cascade Range. We wanted to spend the first night in Boston Basin, climb Forbidden Peak the next day, then move camp upwards to the Sahale-Boston Col, climb Sharkfin Tower and Sahale the next day and head out via Sahale Arm back to the car. I picked up Ken on the earlier flight; Dan hadn’t been able to go standby on that flight but threw his gear on that plane. I had the privilege of hauling his one super heavy duffel bag; I buckled as I picked it up and tried to haul it off. Dan showed up a later on a delayed flight and we didn’t get to bed until 1am or so, unfortunately. The next day we woke up early and drove out under grey clouds to the Marblemount ranger station. We thought that because it was early on Friday, we’d not have a problem getting a pass. Well, there were no passes for Boston Basin. And, to top that, the Cascade Pass Road was closed at the Eldorado parking lot thanks to the heavy fall rains last year. So, we instead got permits for Sahale Arm then Boston Basin. That would work; we’d just do the trip in reverse. At the parking lot, we encountered some rangers, one of them seemed an interesting mix of German and American Indian and we later joked about asking to look at our permit with a very dry “Papers please.”

We started up the road, an extra 3+ miles, around 11am, a little despondent that we had this extra burden. Three and a half miles on an easy road sounds pretty straightforward, and it was. It was really hot though and I think this extra mileage and elevation really tipped the scales of exhaustion when we pulled into camp the first night. Two miles up the road we still wondered why the road was closed. Soon enough though, we saw the numerous holes in the road, sections that were collapsed, and the big machinery that fixes all of it. In some ways though, it was pretty cool hiking up the road because we were able to pay attention to new scenery that we’re accustom to zipping past on the way in or out.

After a short break at the picnic area at the Cascade Pass parking lot, we put our packs back on and started the climb (again) to Cascade Pass. The trail to the pass is pleasant and loaded with numerous switchbacks. I went ahead in front of Ken and Dan intent on getting some video footage as they approached the pass. By the time I got to the pass, the weather had changed a bit. It was a lot colder at the pass and a lot of new clouds had moved in. After a second break, we headed up the last third of the first day – the hike up Sahale Arm to Sahale Arm camp. The hike up Sahale Arm was awesome – lots of heather and flowers, we saw marmots and ptarmigans, and great views down to Doubtful Lake and up to Johannesburg Peak. The upper reaches of Sahale, however, were completely engulfed in clouds.

As we climbed into the clouds, the mist started slowly dampening our packs and clothes. We intently watched our altimeters and we went up the easy talus. At this point, visibility had literally dropped to 30 feet (I measured). We got to an obvious ridge at 7600 feet and we knew the camps were nearby. I scouted to the left and found the public toilet. Then I scouted to the right and found the first camp, which was occupied. I yelled, “Hi guys!” to the occupants who answered (turned out to be Rob and Ben who we would share the summit with the next day) and gave me vague directions to where other camps were. The three of us then headed up to search for a place to sleep. We spread out and dropped our packs and roamed around. It was easy to get out of view of each other. We explored a large rocky area that only revealed a semi level section of snow. In the mist, I thought I could see another section of rock and I let Ken and Dan know I’d go explore there and I’d either yell that I found something or I’d meet them at the snow platform at the top of the last rocky section. This new rocky outcropping looked far away but I took a mere 10-15 steps and was suddenly there; distances were completely out of proportion in the mist! After a couple of minutes, I found a spot and hollered to Ken and Dan who followed my voice down. We set up camp, ate, and then crashed for ten hours! It was an exhausting day.

The next day, we tentively opened the fly to see what the day would reveal. It was clear! Well, for the most part. There was lots of blue sky but there were also a whole lot of clouds. The north Cascade valley was engulfed in a large cloud, Johannesburg moved in and out of clouds, and beyond Sahale Arm, near Forbidden, seemed to be covered in clouds. But, it was clear above and behind us and we could see the summit of Sahale Peak. We took our time getting ready and then packed up and headed up with heavy packs. We wanted to get over Sahale Peak this day and down to Boston Basin. If we had the time, energy, and weather, we’d also try to climb Sharkfin Tower. We followed easy snow to the base of the summit tower. We decided that since we were wearing full packs, we’d rope up for the one pitch to the top. In normal weather with a light pack or nothing, this would be a thrilling scramble to the top. I thought maybe I’d go straight up the face and then link up with the lefthand ridge. This turned out to not be the best choice (there were no good places to protect) and I had to make some delicate moves to get over to the ridge. Once we got going though, the ridge went quickly and easily. On the top, we met up with Ben and Rob and we posed for lots of pictures.

By the time we were ready to rappel down the north side of Sahale, the clouds moved in and engulfed the summit. Sadly, they didn’t leave for the rest of the trip. On the other side of the summit, the scene wasn’t very cheery – cloudy and misty with unseen exposure over the right side and steep snow on the left. We roped up and carefully made our way down. The going wasn’t too bad fortunately. There was a section where we had to downclimb on polished slabs with our crampons on. At the base of the slabs, we were able to make a short scramble down to the edge of the glacier. A short jump put us on our way. The way through the glacier was straightforward, albeit foggy.

We made quick progress down. Suddenly, views of Boston Basin started opening up. We exited the base of the cloud cover and were able to clearly see down into the basin. This was a relief; we wouldn’t have to search the entire area for the campsites. The cloud covered went all the way over to Forbidden Peak and hid the summit from us. Johannesburg, however, was clear.

We made a stop for some food then another to get some glacial water. Ken then caught a glimpse of someone in the distance walking – that had to be the upper Boston Basin camps. Cool – we weren’t that far away. We had to negotiate a couple of steep grassy sections. Dan’s heavy boots served him well at this point. Ken and I were a little more unsure in our light leather boots. We pulled into camp in the afternoon. Most of the established campsites were still under snow we were told. We were able to find a nice flat spot though and set our camp up there. We spent the rest of the day gazing up towards Forbidden that at most revealed the base of the couloir that gave access to the West Ridge. It looked pretty steep and narrow from our vista. Most of the time, though, we couldn’t see very far up the slopes of Forbidden. 180 degrees behind us, though, the real view was always available to behold. Johannesburg looked absolutely gargantuan and terrifying. We had a leisurely dinner and plenty of time for picture taking. We set our watches for 4:30 and turned in.

When 4:30 came around, I really didn’t want to stir. Ken was pretty anxious and got up to look. “Socked in”, he said. No! Well, at least we can sleep a little longer; let’s try again in about two and a half hours. At 7am we got up again. I looked out and it was completely socked in. What luck. The night before, the rangers had come by checking permits. We asked for the latest forecast and the confirmed our thoughts – that July 4th would be the best climbing day. Not so. It looked like we were out of luck. Dejected, we lugubriously packed our things up and headed down. There’s not to much to report on the hike out. It was pleasant enough and the mist lasted for a lot of elevation. These clouds certainly weren’t going anywhere today. We had a couple of fun stream crossings. We moved quickly; we were suddenly at the avalanche debris that Ken and I had experienced a couple of years before. This time though, the passage was much more straightforward. We also figured out where we’d gone wrong in the past. We dreaded the long road hike out but it turned out to be pretty easy. Though we didn’t get to climb Forbidden, the trip was still a lot of fun. We had great views (the ones that chose to reveal themselves) and the experience of going up and over Sahale was really alpine. I also greatly enjoyed the downtime where we took in the views from our lunch perch on the Quien Sabe glacier and the locale of Sahale Arm and Boston Basin. We’ll have to return some day for Forbidden.

West McMillan Spire

Posted on October 5, 2003 by Theron

I watched the weather forecast all week for the Cascades and the Alpine Lakes Wilderness and they slowly improved day by day. So, maybe we’d get another nice weekend of climbing in! Of the two climbs we’d picked, Michael convinced me to do the North Ridge of Stuart. I was really looking forward to that when I got another call from Michael on Friday night and he told me that access to Stuart was closed due to fires. So, to the Pickets it was! Either way, we were going to be happy. We left at around 6:45 AM for the Pickets. It was quite dank and cloudy on the drive there however by the time we were within 5 miles of the trailhead, the clouds vanished revealing blue sky! Ken and I had tried to force our way up the Goodell Creek trail the year before in hard rain and thick brush. We wisely had given up after maybe two and a half miles. It was reassuring to see clear weather. I was anticipating brush again on the lower part of the trail but it was much clearer than last year…or did the lack of rain just make it seem more clear?

The Goodell Creek trail is indeed a good one. We had to backtrack a bit to find the branch that turned east and up to Terror Basin. This trail, as one would expect, is nonstop steep and long. After some minutes, views began to manifest beyond the trees. We could see Mount Triumph’s summit appearing over the ridge across the valley. One distinguishing feature on the climb up is a section of “riblets” as we dubbed them – small ridges running horizontally across the slopes. The trail passes over at least three of these. Beyond that we got some of our first views of the Southern Pickets. The Chopping Block came into view first and the rest of the main crest later. The trail became brushier above but always manageable and not disagreeable. We lost the trail a couple of times but always backtracked maybe 15 or 20 feet to find the real one. After crossing under some cliffs, the trail turned hard right and began steeply climbing gullies in between the cliffs. The roots formed nice hand rails for pulling ourselves up. At the top of these steep slopes, the trail became less steep and the trees a little more sporadic. We chose to take a rest stop here. From our rest stop we pondered where the trail went. I guessed that it would remain fairly low. It didn’t; the trail leads to a very high notch (visible in the extreme right of the second picture below).

The trail becomes very inspiring here. The views are incredible and the terrain is distinctly sub alpine. The trail is faint in places but always near. We never truly lost a trail. At one point, we came to a steep descent into a creek bed, followed a trail to a dead end, retreated, climbed up the creek bed to where a trail led us northward. We broke out of the trees into scenic heather and huckleberry bushes. Looking back on the lower valleys, we could see thick clouds settled in the valleys. It probably seemed a dreary day to the lowlanders.

Michael unfortunately had long since run out of water and there was virtually none on the steep climb up to Terror Basin. I had drank full bottle at the car and had a little left which I shared (I didn’t really need it). He visibly slowed down but was able to at least quench his thirst by sucking on a trickle of water over a granite slab. Higher up, we realized that we were indeed heading for the high notch. The sun was quite intense this afternoon; hard to believe it was October. We took another rest at the notch. There was plenty of water cascading down in the basin where we’d camp. The basin though looks really industrial – much dust, rocks, and gravel strewn about.

The descent into the basin is very steep and loose. We found it pretty easy though by hugging the wall on the right side, then following the water along solid talus down to camp. At camp, we threw down our packs and rested a bit. As if I didn’t have enough punishment already, I decided to scout around camp. I had wanted to get a good look at Azure Lake and some of the points along the ridge looked pretty accessible, so I headed of for them solo. I made a point to scout the route along the way, checking for potential pitfalls for the climb tomorrow. The climb up to the Azure Lake overlook was longer than I thought. It was cool looking down to this remote lake though. There is a beautiful waterfall cascading off the vertical north walls.

I hung around on top for a while with new views of the peaks to the east, Jack Mountain and Ruby Mountain, to name a couple. I couldn’t see any of the other remote Picket Peaks like Fury and Luna from here. I started running the ridge back to camp, looking for better angles for photographing the waterfall. After a couple of more points along the ridge, I made a bee line down glacier slabs back to camp. Michael was hanging out reading on top of a talus pile with good views towards Triumph and Despair. We cooked dinner and went to bed.

We (or rather I) awoke rather late and after a short breakfast were off (7:25). This day was the questionable weather day but it was another cloudless one. There were, again, low clouds in the valley. The clouds crept up pretty far into Goodell Creek valley. We quickly followed a route that I had spied the day before and were soon at a steep creek gully fed by an ice-filled lake in a depression at the low point of the ridge leading to the Southern Picket Peaks. We took a short break here where I drank a lot of water. My plan was to not carry any water on the entire climb but instead bring a cup and drink at every water source that I came to.

We climbed comfortable glacier slabs up to the base of the snow below West McMillan Spire and there donned our crampons. I drank a whole lot of water as well since I would have no more until our descent. I enjoyed this tactic actually. Not carrying any water forced me to really take the opportunity to drink a lot when I had the opportunity, so I stayed well hydrated. The climb up the glacier is easy below the peak. We had no rope and did not have to fool with any crevasse crossings. The Terror Glacier proper to the north is severely broken, however. The last bit of snow that gains the gully is fairly steep, but the snow was hard and our crampons bit well. The rest of the climb was straightforward enough – mostly class 3 scrambling on what I would consider quite solid ground (the gully was definitely loose of course). Views of Mounts Terror and Fury slowly came into view.

Near the top, the route becomes thinner but the exposure was never truly scary or even intimidating; there is plenty of room for scampering along the ridge crest. We took another well deserved break on the summit to finish of most of our food and take in the grandiose surroundings. We’d arrived in just over three hours. There was a summit register (surprising) and we found Colin’s name written during his first attempt at the Picket enchainment.

I wasn’t ready to leave this summit at all. If we had an extra day, I probably would have spent at least four hours on top! We needed to head down though if we were going to make it out before dark.

The descent was quite straightforward. I did take a little more time than I should have by snapping more pictures on the way down.

We made good time once we got back on the snow. We actually ended up descending further than we need to into Terror Basin. We got separated by a little miscommunication but were able to figure out what had happened. We were back on route back to camp. Back at camp, we collapsed on to our sleeping bags. I pulled mine into the shade – the sun had been beating down on me long enough. The plan was to take a 17 minute nap and be hiking by 2:45. At a fast pace, we could probably be back at the car by dark. That was a nice 17 minutes.

I’ll spare the details of the descent. It was pleasant enough at first but the fatigue slowly kicked in and the descent back to Goodell Creek was a long one. We hiked the straightaway at top speed and arrived back at car just as it was getting too dark to see. Totaled up, this trip was 20 miles and 13,500 feet of elevation! That’s by far the most I’ve done in a single weekend. What a great and painful initiation to the Pickets!

Ptarmigan Traverse- Day 6

Posted on August 23, 2003 by Theron

The morning was another cloudy one but dry. We headed up the steep slopes to the ridge at the head of Bachelor Creek. We were anxious to see the avalanche devastation. After wending around a bit at the top of the basin, we came to our first scramble and slide through fallen trees. It wasn’t until we got into the forests though that the really thick avalanche debris appeared. We actually dealt with it pretty well, following a faint path here and there through sections of the mess. We did plenty of crawling under and over fallen trees and eventually ended up getting in the old growth forest on the right until we got beyond the debris. Then, we hiked down to the creek and spied the trail on the other side of the creek. Feeling proud and relieved, we continued our march out. We passed a party camping nearby who, I thought, said we were mostly done with the difficulties. This certainly wasn’t true. Though there is a trail the whole way, there’s plenty of invasive brush and log crawling and hopping. The descent out Bachelor Creek felt really long; I’d imagine the ascent would be quite taxing. Finally, we started switchbacking steeply down, a sure sign that we were entering the glacier valley of Downey Creek.

We rested at Downey Creek and finished up all of our food and prepared for the final trek out. Michael prepared an ugly brew of iodine water and gatorade that had the appearance of mud. He grimaced sourly when tasting it. I didn’t fill up my water here. I had a reasonable amount left and didn’t trust the water here. The Ptarmigan is so high and goes through so many glaciers that we filled our water directly from glacier streams which are pretty safe.

The hike out Downey was uneventful. We were back in deep dark forests winding in and out of smaller stream gullies feeding the larger creek. When we saw the signs announcing the wilderness boundary, we got really excited that we were finishing the climb. Then there was the road and the car. Man, it hit us suddenly – six days, six glaciers, five major passes, and five peaks later, we were done!

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One extra interesting tidbit of information is the effect that the Ptarmigan had on my hiking clothes! I抳e worn the same clothes for like the past 4 years, an REI pair of adjustable pants, a white North Face polypro long sleeve shirt, standard wool socks. Well, each one of these garments (including my backup pair of socks) pretty much disintegrated after getting back home. My pants randomly started forming holes (not rips)! Dirt was ground in sufficiently into my shirt such that nothing, save perhaps gasoline, would get it out. Of course, my socks had holes worn in them. So, I gave my great reliable apparel an honorable burial when I got home.

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