The Tooth- South Face, II, 5.4

Posted on by
Reply

Daniel’s idea:

After work, drive up to Snoqualmie Pass, hike in to the Tooth, climb it, sleep on the summit, rappel down the following morning and go into work.

Dang that sounded cool to me.  That’s almost like a free weekend.  We headed out around 4:30 or 5:00 on Wednesday, stopped for some food at Subway in North Bend (saving part of the sandwich for the summit), and continued up to Snoqualmie Pass.  From the parking lot, we hiked up the trail on snow.  Well, I hiked; Daniel brought his skis and skinned up.  Now, it was way back in November on Sperry Peak when I was last on snow and that was a postholing Hell.  This Snoqualmie Spring snow was perfect, well-consolidated, and sturdy.  I think I punched through once, and only then up to the thigh of one leg.  Pshaw.

We made quick time up the valley, passed an open slope, where beyond we turned leftward past a waterfall and made a steep ascending and curving climb to Great Scott Basin.  Within approximately an hour and a half we were near the Tooth.  The snow climb beyond the small tower which Michael and I dubbed “Baby Tooth” was straight forward.  At the very end, however, we did encounter a descent bergeschrund that required careful negotiation to safely squeak up and through in order to reach the small pass.  A few minutes later we were at the base of the Tooth.

I’d never led the Tooth before so Daniel gave me the first pitch.  One long simul pitch later we were on the summit.  The climb itself was good easy fun, solid the whole way, consisting of easy climbing with sprinkled 5.4ish cruxes here and there.  The summit was surprisingly warm – mid to low 50′s, I suppose, with no wind.  After enjoying the second half of our subway sandwiches and some evening photography, we bedded down on two good bivy ledges and stared up at the stars.  Occasionally, I would turn my head slightly and look down on the cars travelling on I-90 far below.

I fell asleep fast and awoke sometime in the early morning hours to a bright three quarters moon hanging in the southern sky.  Sometime later, at 5am I heard Daniel moving about.  We lazed around and leisurely had a small breakfast and took more pictures and video.

We made one rappel off the summit and then decided to explore around the area.  Daniel led back up looking around for the “Catwalk”.  With no immediate pro available, we decided to just rappel all the way down and solo up “Baby Tooth” for some more photo opportunities.

Daniel skied out.  I glissaded and plunge stepped my way out.  We were back to work around 9:30.

The photos here were taken by Daniel.

Sperry Peak

Posted on by
2

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.

Mount Daniel

Posted on by
Reply

I had Mount Daniel in the back of my mind for a long time as as a peak for high potential for simple, laidback fun at the end of the summer climbing season.  Robert and I left the night before and drove out in thick clouds and rain.  Miraculously, as is often the case, as we pulled into the trailhead parking after a very long dirt road, we saw stars in the sky.  We set up the tent, had some wine, and crashed.  For some reason, we were up numerous times during the night quick runs to the outhouse.  We’d only had a little wine.

The luxurious trail was super easy to follow.  I’ve become very thankful for nice big trails, especially after trips that demand a lot of off-trail travel, which is quite common in the Cascades.  The clouds had moved back in and were obscuring the sky as we ascended.  Beyond Cathedral Rock, however, we could see the blue peaking through.  It appeared the Mount Daniel might be clear.  There are some pretty impressive waterfalls coming off of Daniel, the water eventually makes its way to Circle and Deep Lakes.  At Peggy’s Pond, we took a short food break and continued up the slopes and arrived in the broad cirque on the east side of the mountain.  Easy talus slopes led us to the base of the route where the snow slowly became deeper.

We aimed for a spot where it looked like we could swing around the eastern summit and head for the main summit.  It turned out, however, that we emerged on the ridge only 50-75 feet below the summit.  So, we tagged the summit, grabbed a little food, then down climbed the ridge to a point where we could easily traverse below the eastern summit and head for the main one.

The route over to the main summit is pretty simple.  There’s some fun class scrambling at the very end to gain the true summit.  We took a few pictures here as the clouds swirled around us.  After descending the true summit, we decided to make it a trifecta and climbed the last remaining summit, staying on top for maybe 5 seconds, no lie.

We slogged our way back to the car.  A fun, easy trip.

Snowking Mountain

Posted on by
Reply

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

Posted on by
Reply

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

Posted on by
Reply

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