Prussik Peak

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I slept like a rock and awoke to Robert pulling on the mosquito netting of the bivy sack he let me borrow.  It was 6:30 and the sky was gray with clouds.  We packed up and meandered our way down to Mesa Lake, regained part of the ridge, and descended again before finding a trail that we could follow.  We were now hiking along the “Lost World Plateau”, completely devoid of people (that would change as soon as we descended from Prusik Peak).

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Total trip stats:  20 Miles, 8500 Feet of Elevation

Enchantments Tour

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For one of the last trips of the year, I had my hopes on the east ridge of Inspiration Peak, Robert set his sights on Early Morning Spire.  Thanks to the weather, Robert threw out the suggestion of “The Enchantments”.  Oh yeah, I’d never been there, no like.  Can you believe it?  So, it was settled, we planned to go climb “The Mole”, and Prusik Peak, and maybe even Temple Ridge.  I met Robert in Cashmere around 7:15 in the morning and we drove out to the ever popular Snow Creek trailhead prepared to go in “ninja style” with our day trip story.  Our plan:  Hike up to the Edwardian Plateau via the Toketie Creek trail, climb the Mole, sleep somewhere around Mesa Lake, hike to Prusik Pass the next day, climb Prusik Peak via the west ridge, see what else we were up for and then head out.

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

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

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

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

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

Mount Sir Donald

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After having seen the imposing form of Sir Donald from the Trans-Canadian Highway en route to Mount Assiniboine, I knew I had to come back. Aidan and I casually talked about doing it on the way home from our Bugaboos trip (this would have saved a lot of driving), but we were tired and lazy and decided to just drive back. Now, with the opportunity of being in the Seattle area over summer, I knew this might be one of my few opportunities to climb it. In fact, if I were able to climb Sir Donald this year, I knew I could call this a successful summer, though way less prolific than years past. So it goes.

So, I recruited Daniel and Ari for the mission. At the last moment, Daniel was unable to go so I was left wondering if this would be a good idea just as a party of two (where filming isn’t as convenient). When I looked at the situation and realized that this particular weekend was probably my last until late August, we decided to go for it. To maximize the best weather, we actually decided to leave Sunday morning with the hopes that we’d be fast and that we’d storm the mountain, returning to camp by early afternoon and thus back to Seattle by late evening on Monday morning. Things were not to go as expected.

We arrived at the Roger’s Pass Visitor Center (below photo) quite early, around 4pm, I believe. We’d left early so as to get the requisite passes on time. I’d read on the internet that the Visitor Center closed at 4:30, but found myself questioning that as we approached – it was the middle of summer; it doesn’t get dark until quite late. Why would they close so early?

Sure enough, the Visitor Center does close quite late (8:30) and we got started hiking sometime around 4:30 or 5pm. The hike to the meadows beneath Sir Donald was thankfully straightforward and easy, with a nice river and greatly receded glacier providing views along the way. Most of the time, the foreshortened view of Sir Donald is on the horizon to the left. From here, it didn’t look too big. “Hmm, mabye we’ll be down by noon”, I thought. Then we turned left and started up a steep, gravelly trail that deposited us in a small basin beneath the west face where we set up camp. It was nice to have arrived early enough to allow for adequate time to relax before going to bed. A few drops of rain fell on us, nothing significant. There were mixed clouds as we went to bed.

The next morning was quite cloudy and the summit of Sir Donald was hidden in clouds. We began hiking up talus along the way to the the Sir Donald – Uto col. After 30 minutes of rock-hopping, we were on a comfortable trail that led to the col. Another party was up here and another showed up…both of them were on their way to Uto. No one was climbing Sir Donald today. It was understandable: though the pictures don’t show it, from the col, Sir Donald is a sobering sight with it’s long northwest ridge steeply climbing into the sky. On top of that, the col was very windy and the summit was still engulfed in lenticular clouds, an indication that the winds were even worse high above. Ari was visibly disturbed at the sight of the route. I practically had on every piece of clothing as we headed off. We could always turn around.

We started off on exposed 4th class grasping cold limestone as we pulled ourselves up the mountain. Not to far along, we encountered a party descending the route – two older gents who had spent the night on the route. They were in good spirits at least having talked about passing the time in a reasonably comfortable space that was protected from the high winds. We continued on. I wanted to solo as much as possible for the sake of speed, but we didn’t get too far. We doubled the rope and I grabbed the rack and headed off intent on lots of long simul-climbs. I went for long distances placing very little gear. The general consensus on the description of the route was 5.5 steps with lots of 4th class. I thought it was a little more than that. 5.5 was a reasonable ranking, but there was a lot more 5.0 terrain that I was expecting. It was all there and mostly solid, but simply a lot more 5th class than I thought. Assiniboine, having a similar description, was a simpler climb.

The “steps” weren’t very short either. At one point a high steep wall was in front of me which was easily overcome by a left-trending crack that led to a wider crack trending back to the right that I was able to hand-traverse up. Eventually, I spotted one of the rappel stations that marks the descent that was set up in 2003. If you’re wanting to climb this route, be sure that you go to the Roger’s Pass visitor center and get the description of the descent; it will save you a lot of time.

Continuing on, we followed lots of blocky terrain with an occasional slabby section where the climbing felt “real”. I tended to favor different sides of the ridge depending on how I was feeling physically – left for sun and wind, right for cold rock and shade. The exposure is great on both sides, but the air really tugs on the right side over the west face. If the rock looked slabby with cracks, I’d favor the right; otherwise, I’d take a little mental break and go left. It felt like we were moving slowly though. Eventually, I arrived at less steep ground and could see the summit, or what I thought was the summit, fairly far away. It was a steep, sharp, and intimidating pyramid. Well, it usually looks harder than it really is. “Another hour to the summit,” I thought? It would be more than that. At this point, we were on bona fide 3rd class terrain – the first 3rd class of the climb. Ari went lead off for this part. We thought about unroping, but it would have been a pain to coil it, uncoil it and put it back on, etc. At the end of his lead at a nice rest spot, he wisely insisted on taking a break to eat since the summit would probably be exposed to the wind. Ari looked mentally drained. After eating, I took the rack and headed off again. At the top of the steep pyramid, I saw that I still wasn’t at the summit. Another 15-20 minutes. We finally arrived on the summit and I wasn’t keen to linger at all. It had taken us over six ours to climb the route – quite pokey. In order to get down in time, we couldn’t afford to dilly dally. Strangely enough, I still had hopes of driving back this afternoon.

The first part of the descent involves descending down the opposite side of the summit block. This is mostly third class, sometimes loose, that leads down to a broad scree face. We followed cairns and ledges to a pathway that lead under the summit and back to the ridge. At the ridge, we opted to solo down instead of rope up. The climbing was easy but there were moments when the heart pounded extra as we made exposed moves around bulges or thin ledges. The description of the descent talked about “easy descending on the ridge leads to the first rappel station.” It was quite a way before we arrived at the first rappel station. We made two rappels on slings and downclimbed a lot before arriving at the first station. Because we went so far, we were wondering if we’d missed the first one. But, once we got to the end of the second official rappel and saw the characteristic easy downclimb to the third rappel, we realized we were on route. At the end of the fifth rappel, we arrived at the station with the yellow tailings indicating it was time to go down the face. These rappels went quickly. Arriving at the base of the gully, we still had a good amount of downclimbing in front of us. We walked down more ledges with occasional 3rd and 4th class moves to the part labeled “4th class on the descent topo”, which was actually a steep section of polished slabs. Fortunately, I found another new rappel station (not mentioned on the info at the visitor center but obviously installed by the same team). There were two rappel stations that took us to the steep moraine which we followed back to camp just as the sun was setting. There was no real thought of hiking out tonight; that would have been crazy. We just had a meager dinner, a lot of water, and went to bed.

The drive back the next day was pleasant. Ari basically slept the whole way and I drove in silence for 8 hours enjoying the views, never once getting bored. We were one day overdue, but had successfully climbed Sir Donald, which I’d wanted to do for a long time. To those wishing to climb the peak, the only advice I could give is to not underestimate the length of the ridge. Be prepared to solo much of the route or simul-climb efficiently. There’s no way to climb the route in a day if you pitch the whole thing out. Also, more importantly, expect that you will be mentally drained by the constant exposure. If you’re not accustomed to this, it can really sap your will.  Have fun!

Black Peak

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At the last minute, Ari and I decided to leave for Rainy Pass to car camp and then day climb the northeast ridge of Black Peak the next day. OK, that’s an efficient way to do it. Let’s go! We left around 9:30 PM Friday bound for Rainy Pass. However, we were tired enough that we stopped driving at Diablo Lake and pulled into the overlook, parked, and dragged our sleeping bags over to the edge of the overlook. Except for a couple of derelict cars and a few deer, the area was empty. We awoke to a nice sunrise over the emerald lake. We jumped in the car and made quick down to Rainy Pass. The mosquitos were out again and even I opted to put on some bug juice.

Getting to Heather Pass took no time at all. I was surprised at how quickly we got up the trail. In front of us, outlined against the blue sky and across a long talus field, was Black Peak. We could see Lewis Lake and some waterfalls in front of us, but Wing Lake was still out of view. The talus field was tedious, but manageable. Lewis Lake is vividly turquoise and I enjoyed traversing low around the right side of the lake. The trail didn’t start ascending until some yards after it crossed the source. I was beginning to think we were on the wrong path. The trail climbed steeply but comfortably up to Wing Lake. I was feeling tired and out of shape again, but I managed. One problem was that these new boots were starting to repeatedly bruise my ankles again. It’s like a little hammer tapping on my ankle every time I took a step. I got out some extra socks and jammed them down in the shoes to isolate my ankles from constant rubbing. It helped, somewhat.

Wing Lake was surprisingly frozen! We took a rest here, got some food, and reapplied sunscreen (to everywhere except the calves where we were both burned at the end of the day). To get to the ridge required a tedious climb up talus and snow. It’s quite a long slog. Once there, we had good views west and north. Some tricky 4th class traversing got us to a spot where we’d rope up. Ari wanted some practice leading so he got the rack and then took off.

The climbing was good, but not great. The rock was mostly solid, but there were definitely sections of steep loose blocks where extra care was needed. This climb reminded me some of Triumph. It was similar rock, maybe not quite as solid and not as thrilling. There’s a great “sidewalk in the sky” with lots of exposure that leads to a nice belay where you can take a comfortable break. Beyond that, it’s more of the same – easy 4th and 5th class climbing to a false summit which reminded me of a much smaller and easier version of Bugaboo Spire. We traversed along to the real summit and cut back up a gully to arrive at the top. The view of Goode was inspiring but the valley looked deep. Just getting up to the glacier looked to be a piece of work.

The hike out was a total pain. The descent off the summit wasn’t too bad, but required a lot of concentration descending the steep 4th class. Getting down to the ridge was just a matter of scouting out the route, looking for the most promising scree ledges and gullies, and then confirming your choices with an occassional cairn. The descent from the col was down steep scree then snow, which promptly dumped into my boots since they were wide open due to the socks jammed between my ankles and the sides of the boots. I cursed the snow as I made my way back to the scree. I emptied my boots and put on my gaiters. I boot skied down the rest of the snow almost all the way to the lake. The remainder of the hike out was awful as the socks seemed to be doing less and less. It reminded me of the painful descent off Slesse, that time being my knees. I hobbled my way down questioning my sanity for going on this climb. At the same time, the mosquitos were biting. So, I hiked and slapped. I was a lot slower on the hike out and Ari got far in front of me. He had the car waiting at the trailhead (not allowed to park directly at the trailhead) as I finally arrived. Thanks! We made it just in time for Good Food! My spirit perked back up.

McClellan’s Butte

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The weather wasn’t terribly cooperative this weekend, but that may have been a good thing. I’d wanted to climb the north ridge of Forbidden Peak and so and planned to that this weekend. I know I would have come back from that trip utterly exhausted since I’ve grown soft living in China and wasn’t in good physical shape. Plus, the Cascade River Road was closed at Eldorado Creek – another 6 miles to hike! So, instead of jsut doing good ole Mount Si, we (Kevin, Ari, and me) opted to climb McClellan’s Butte, which was the very first climb I did with Michael at the end of 2002, man that seems like so long ago. I guess it was – 4.5 years.

Well, there’s not too much to report about this trip. I was slower than both Kevin and Ari and they enjoyed racing up ahead and taunting me as they’d wait for me, looking down the trail at my panting form doggedly plodding up the mountain. We made our way up to the final ridge and were greeted by a welcomed blast of cool air and a sweeping view down the valley. The final scramble lay in front of us which was an easy scamper. We lounged around on top for about an hour, nearly falling asleep on some smooth slabs down the ridge northeast from the summit. The hike out was pretty uneventful except that my new hiking boots were hinting that they were going to be pain to break in. This proved to be true the following week.

Bugaboos – Bugaboo Spire

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We awoke to the annoying beeping of a wristwatch alarm at 4:30 AM and were hiking by a little after 5:00.  I had scouted the beginning of the route the night before and led us through the various tents to the trail that led past the lake to the base of the Crescent Glacier below the Bugaboo-Crescent col.  We didn’t hear the two climbers who were in front of us, but we were able to see their headlamps approaching the col.  We also passed a second party in the camp, who would be climbing with us most of the day, eating the last morsels of oatmeal.  This time, we were able to follow a trail in the darkness.  We did lose the trail a couple of times, but we passed the two lakes, crossed under some cliffs to the base of the glacier without much incident.  Still in darkness we started crossing the glacier, which began being covered in a thin layer of mud.  The glacier wasn’t very steep and we didn’t bother putting on crampons.  We had to walk carefully and deliberately, but it was easy enough to not slip while hiking up the ice.  I did encounter one slick spot near an icy crevasse.  I moved to the left to find more gritty ice and crossed there.  We could see the other party at the base of the glacier as we began soloing up the steep 5th class ledges and slabs to the col.

We could see the first party above us, scurrying around at the base of the route.  On arriving, we found out they were still trying to find the beginning of the route.  Pointing out to them where it was, they were on their way.  They promised to be quick, which they were.  Aidan then began our climb with the lead, grunting his way up but doing so in great form.  I had always looked forward to just seeing this view of the northeast ridge, but actually standing beneath me had begun to put me in a careful mood.  The first pitch also set the mood.  I began the first couple of moves hesitantly.  Before I was even 15 feet off the ground, I felt like I didn’t have my best mindset or my best skills available to me.  Aidan hollered down, “You’ve got to commit to the lieback!”  I am not a fan of liebacks, never have been.  I found myself trying to avoid doing the lieback moves.  With Aidan’s instruction, I committed to the lieback and started moving up.  I found myself not concentrating as I should, and before I could say anything, my right foot slip, the lieback fell apart and I took a fairly long follower’s fall, puncturing my middle and ring fingers on my right hand and bashing my left knee.  OK, this was not a good start and I found myself in a spooked mindset for most of the climb.  It wasn’t until the fifth pitch that I felt confident enough to take over the lead.

The second part of the first pitch was a hollow flake that required lieback moves the entire way up.  At least I was concentrated more and made the moves without problems, but nervously.  Many other climbers think the crux of the route is the traverse move near the top of the first pitch.  I did not find this hard at all.  I guess this shows me that if I want to be a complete rock-climber, I need to get more comfortable with liebacks.  OK, maybe it’s time to do laps on Godzilla back at Index.

I refused the second pitch as well, which was a good bit easier, but still steep and challenging.  The route climbs up a dike of granite flakes forming numerous short cracks.  Unlike the first pitch, there is plenty of opportunity for good protection.  The third pitch begins with a fifteen foot down-climb from the top of the dike to a depression which leads steeply up and rightward across the face to gain the true ridge.  This pitch is sensational.  Nicely exposed and with thin holds, but at every place that you’d want them.

The third pitch leads to a comfortable belay at the base of the fourth pitch, which is a long skyward reaching corner that leads off steeply and slowly eases in angle. This pitch starts off with an awkward, but not hard, move and then follows the corner for sustained but pleasant climbing up the corner. There are several sections of liebacks, but nothing as hard or as sustained as the first pitch. At the top of the fourth pitch, a 5.6 pitch up another steep, but shorter, crack system led to blockier ground and a long, low-angled chimney. Aidan again asked if I wanted to take the lead. I opted to this time, thinking it would help me clear my head. It did. We simul-climbed a bit and then I brought Aidan up to another good belay somewhere within the chimney and then headed out again.

Aidan took the next pitch, which, if I recall, was a steep face climb with good protection. At this point the pitches started blending together. I don’t recall if it was the same pitch or the next one that we encountered another 5.7 section that was supposed to be a little burly. It wasn’t. The move was short, over a small bulge – nothing as challenging as the opening pitch. At this point, we were nearing the north summit. A steep gendarme blocked the way and we opted to make a difficult and constricted rappel down the east side to easier ground where we could traverse back on to the ridge. We then followed a knife edge to the summit. Beyond, on the traverse to the true summit, the south summit, was more fun knife edge walking. At one point the exposure over the east side is completely sheer – a straight drop down to the Crescent Glacier. In front of us were easy slabs below the north summit, which we traversed around to a large wall. We then headed up the north side of the south summit, following solid finger cracks.

I was relieved to be on the summit. I was definitely ready for the climb to be over. I remarked to Aidan that I thought this was harder than Slesse and that the opening pitch was harder than any pitch on Slesse. Aidan thought me crazy and wisely pointed out that it was due to the mental state. That was true; evaluating the two climbs pitch for pitch, Slesse is a much longer and sustained climb, with more difficult pitches. But, truthfully, I didn’t feel it. But, I did my best to keep my head in the moment. Leading those few pitches helped a lot, but not as much as having such an excellent climbing partner.

The climbers below us, Carl and Tom, soon appeared and we enjoyed our short summit moments together. Then we decided to stick together as we began the descent of Bugaboo Spire. We had read so much about the difficulty and complexity of the descent and Carl backed the story up. I suppose this helped prepare us for the descent, because it didn’t feel nearly as hard, to me, as it was made out to be. It was complex, granted, but not bad at all. The part where we had to pay the most care was locating the rappels. The second, right before the famous gendarme was fairly tricky – a committing and extremely exposed rappel over the east side. From about 3/4ths the length of the rappel is a large notch where the third rappel is. Getting to it requires an easy but exposed traverse while still on rappel.

Beyond the rappel, more exposed knife edges finally led to terrain where we could unrope and down-climb. There’s plenty of 5th class down-climbing but it slowly relents to easy 3rd and 4th class terrain. After hearing the horror stories of the descent, I had likened the descent to the awful on on Slesse. Because of that, this one seemed easy and soon enough we were back at the col. We waited a bit for another party to rappel down the col before beginning our loose descent. It’s almost impossible not to knock rocks down the chute; all it take is vibrations to get rocks moving. Each party absolutely has to wait for others to descend, otherwise it’s quite likely that someone will get hit. At the base of the bergeschrund, we quickly put on our crampons and headed down the ice.

While we were on Bugaboo, Colin and Ross were out climbing the Beckey-Choiunard route on South Howser Tower. They hadn’t returned by the time we got back. Aidan was getting a little worried about them but only a few minutes after dark, after we’d turned in, they showed up. Aidan and I were both very tired, but Colin bounced around camp and chatted as if he’d had a rest day. Ross, on the other hand, hit the hay. Earlier, before going to bed, Aidan and I talked with the campground custodian. He mentioned that weather was most likely moving in tomorrow. Both Aidan and I did not have the desire to do another big rock climb, and were a relieved at the justification of hiking out due to a storm.

Sure enough, in the middle of the night, the wind started picking up. We hadn’t bothered securing the Beta Light with lines, but each corner had a large rock to hold it in place. That didn’t stop the wind from loosing two of the corners of the tent in the middle of the night. It sounded like a near explosion and we were suddenly awake with the tent ends flapping in our faces. We jumped up immediately and secured the tent, finding extra large rocks to secure the corners and went back to bed. I slept well, though I recall waking several times to the roaring of the wind. Aidan, on the other hand, admitted to barely sleeping a wink. Instead, he’d periodically grab the pole next to us, holding it in place for fear of it being knocked over again.

We lounged in the noisy tent the following morning before getting up. Colin and Ross decided to not go for another climb as well and we all decided to hike out together. We took our time getting ready. I headed out before everyone else because I tend to hike a little slower on the descent, not to mention that Colin and Ross are very fast. Soon enough, they caught up with me and we hiked together for a while. After a bit, I got tired of the speed, let the others get ahead and took out my mp3 player. I enjoyed the tunes all the way down and stopped several times for more pictures, ones that I couldn’t get on the hike in because of the low light.

It was a long long drive back, but more rap and hip-hop entertained me. We arrived back in Tacoma around 11pm and Aidan’s mom treated us to some excellent grilled chicken pasta, salad, and fresh peaches. Feeling like a refreshed flower, I opted to drive home since the traffic would be much better this time of night than the following morning. All-in-all, despite the exhaustion, this was a fantastic and memorable trip. Thanks for coming along, Aidan. It was a great way to end the summer.