The Torment Forbidden Traverse – Day 2

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Day 2:  The West Ridge of Forbidden Peak

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

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

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

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

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

The Torment Forbiddent Traverse – Day 1

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Day 1:  Mount Torment South Ridge and Bivy

Since I’ve wanted to climb Forbidden Peak for so long, it was only fitting to do it the best way:  the Torment-Forbidden Traverse.  This was a classic alpine climb and gave Robert, Aidan, and I all we wanted – a beautiful alpine setting, a challenging and committing ridge, and fun moderate climbing.  We left Seattle around 6:45 or so and hit the trail a little after 10.  It was pretty cool when we started, but it wouldn’t last.  These late July afternoons are HOT, as Michael and I discovered one year ago on Johannesburg.  We blasted up the trail though.  The avalanche crossing is getting substantially easier by the year and it hardly cost us any extra time.  Deep in the forest, the black flies starting hitting us pretty hard.  Aidan and I both got stung by some sort of wasp.  “It was probably a stick,” suggested Robert.  A stick?  Well, after Michael’s lesson in the Pickets, we broke out the Benedryl to deal with the swelling.

At an hour and forty five minutes we were at the upper camps in Boston Basin.  The black flies had left us but the horseflies picked up where they left off.  We took a comfortable break on a slab next to a waterfall where we drank our fill and killed maybe 50 horseflies.  We then traversed around a prominent rib coming off the ridge at it’s bass where we arrived at another section of slabs and waterfalls.  Third class climbing got us easily to the base of the western part of the Taboo Glacier.  At first, the crossing looked easy and we jumped on the glacier without crampons.  However, higher up, it looked like access to the peak was blocked by a massive bergeshrund.  At the far end though, we were able to jump on 4th class slabs that gave us access to the glacier above the shrund.  From there we went back in the opposite side to the prominent notch where we’d start the climb.

Probably the hardest rock pitch was the very first one, the first 20 15 feet of getting out of the notch.  It was probably much easier in normal snow years when the notch had snow in it…maybe not.  Anyway, Robert led out over the steep crack up to the normal place where we roped up.  The first pitch climbed an easy dihedral up to the south ridge.  For the most part, we were just to the left of the ridge and the climbing never got harder than 5.0.  Most of it was 4th class and we did the whole thing in one pitch.  Robert went a little far up to the east ridge and got into some loose rock and had to downclimb.  From here though, it was easy to just drop our packs and scamper up to the summit where we shook hands, took a short rest, and surveyed the rest of the route.

The next goal was to get to the next notch at the beginning of the ridge.  We had to make some careful downclimbs down the south face and traverse along ledges to the notch.  I arrived at the notch and surveyed the next section; it looked tough.  Well, to follow the ridge directly would be some unreasonably hard climbing.  There was snow about 60 feet below, but separated by a large moat from the cliff.  Aidan looked a little green after checking out our options.  Robert decided to rappel down to the snow and had to make some awkward moves to push himself onto the snow.  Aidan and followed and we helped each other across the moat.  At this point, the only option was to follow the snow along the moat down some semi-hero slopes to where we could regain the rock.  From there, it looked like more easy, if not loose, 5th class climbing.  Robert opted to lead out again and slowly made his way down the snow.  Aidan and I followed, Aidan being tied in about 15 feet in front of me.  For the most part, the downclimbing was easy, just awkward and loose in spots, but it did eat up lots of time.  Robert did a great job of picking the best route to get on the rock.  Finally, we were off again on the rock.  This time we were traversing left around another huge gendarme.  When Robert crossed the crest, he yelled, “Bivies!”.  Alright!  We now could rest; it was about 8:30pm.  

The bivy location was awesome – nice and cozy on a moderate cliff with great views of the remainder of the traverse.  They were just big enough to hold three people.  There’s room for a fourth about 30 feet below on some sloping slabs.  The steep snow traverse was just beyond the bivies.  From there, we could see that we’d be back on the crest of the ridge.  Enough of worrying about tomorrow though, we sat back and enjoyed the views, the food, and the company and turned in shortly after sunset.

Mount Redoubt

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Colchuck Peak – Northeast Buttress

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We’d been dealing with a wet Spring.  The weekend before, Michael and I drove out to Mount Shuksan for an attempt at Fisher Chimneys, but as soon as we turned in, the clouds opened up and didn’t let up until early morning.  We couldn’t do much but drive back home.  The following weekend, we were set to go again, despite a questionable forecast.  This time, we’d roll the dice with the Alpine Lakes.  Colchuck was the next logical major mountain in the area for us to climb, and by an appealing route:  the Northeast Buttress.

We left Seattle on Saturday at 11am where we cragged on Castle Rock before heading to an outstanding German meal in Leavenworth.  Later on, we turned in at our secret spot near the Colchuck Lake trailhead.  I shut my eyes while the sun was still up to the white noise of nearby creek.  The next thing I remember was Michael saying, “Hey Theron, it’s 4:15!”

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dhwq6GlCcYY

It seems like every time we’ve gone up this trail, we’ve been in bad weather:  Argonaut, Stuart Glaicer Couloir, and Dragontail.  This morning, as was on Dragontail, was bright and clear.  We made quick time up the trail arriving at the lake somewhere after an hour or two.  The only hiking I’d done all year was one time a week or two ago up Mount Si.  I could certainly tell I wasn’t as fast as normal and Michael was consistently ahead of me.  Beyond the lake, we saw we had a slog up talus (at least it wasn’t thinly veiled in snow) before we reached the glacier.

At the top of the talus, we stopped for food, talk, and video.  The route, lying in plain view in front of us, looked great – the rock, especially solid.  We set off again up the glacier and soon arrived at the base of the Kearney description of the route.  There was a nasty looking moat barring the way though.  I saw a potential snow bridge to cross; Michael headed up a little looking for a spot to cross, eventually conceding that this route wasn’t possible.  Instead, we headed up the left side of the buttress looking for a spot, passing one that afforded an an easy pass but had smooth slabs above it.  We eventually settled on a much steeper section festooned with solid looking cracks.

Michael led off on the first pitch – a rather stiff 5.8 crack climb on golden granite that was thankfully solid and a lot of fun.  I then led out along a wide and loose ledge to another section of golden (Michael later confirmed it was pink – a color I have a hard time seeing) granite.  It looked so easy but as I started up, sections of the right side just started pulling off like potato chips.  This section was awful and was obviously the section that the Beckey route warned about.  After trying a little more, I began to realize this was a foolhardy endeavor and carefully backed down.  OK, I’ll take hard 5.9 any day over that scary loose 5.0 stuff.  This section is distinct from below – a large swath of the lightest color of rock near the base.

After that jolt, Michael opted to lead the next pitch up some hard-to-protect slabs and then through a goofy chimney (was this the chimney?), up another ramp, and over a hard boulder move (until you saw the trick) that gained another ridge.  We simul-climbed again along a wide ledge past some snow.  The route became a little confusing again along some smooth but solid golden granite.  At this point, we were directly above the loose section.  Michael opted to downclimb around a tree and then emerged onto another ledge at the base of a vertical but solid looking chimney.

It was my turn to head out.  This was most likely the 5.3 Beckey chimney.  It turned out to be a super quality pitch, and except for some minor looseness again on the right side, was very solid and enjoyable.  The holds were right where you needed them to be.  I would have rated this section a 5.4 with one 5.6 move.

“Michael, this pitch is great!”, I shouted.

“Well keep going then!  Let’s simul-climb and make up some time.”

“OK!”  So, I unclipped from the slings thrown around the base of a tree at the top of the chimney.  I made a 5.6 move to get up into a crack that traversed rightward the smooth face.  If that chimney was good, then this was even better -  an easy climb on an exposed face in a grand alpine setting.  OK, the climb was finally starting to turn quality, we both later confessed to thinking.

I ran out of slings at the large ramp that traversed left up the buttress.  Heck, it looked easy; let’s keep going!  The Beckey description talked about following the ledge 160 feet to it’s end at the base of a twin cracks pitch.  We did stop somewhere around here after rope drag prevented any more creative gear placements.  We stopped at a perfect place for lunch and admired Dragontail in the distance.  Serpentine Arete, which we’d climbed the year before, looked menacing.  Wow, and this was harder, at least for route-finding.

In retrospect, maybe this was the spot where we were supposed to pick up the twin cracks, but the description also said to go to the ramps end.  Michael led off and by the time we were at the “end”, we must have gone a full 300 feet or more.  At this point we started climbing up the “cosmic slabs” which featured some tough climbing.  Good thing Michael was leading; I would have opted to bail and try an area that looked a little easier below.  Michael plugged doggedly ahead and after some debate, he brought me up.  The climbing was nice and easy at first but it required some 5.9 face climbing to arrive at the two-nut belay on a tiny slanting ledge.

From there I spied a potential route to go up.  I didn’t have my nerves with me at this point and happily suggested that Michael should go.  I did see a way that looked like it would go at maybe 5.8 or 5.9 again.  At least, that’s as hard as I remembered it looking.  When Michael said, “Ok, that was 5.11″, I remember thinking, “Oh great!”  On following, I found it quite hard as well though I somewhat mockingly downgraded it to 5.10c.  It was quite a delicate move though that I accomplished by pressing hard into a tiny corner while carefully shifting my hand positions upward.  Soon enough, it was over and I was in the steep crack.  Oh thankfully some hand jams!  “Would I have said that last year?”, I asked myself.  Nope, probably not.  The jams were only occasionally good as the crack varied in depth.  Still, if the hand jams weren’t there, the foot jams were and the crack felt like a pleasure after the hard face climbing.  At another marginal belay, Michael sent me off to continue the crack, which was now easier though still steep and exposed.  The protection was good though and I got up a full rope length to another tree belay where we swung the lead again.  Michael led us over more moderate terrain to the ridge crest.

Michael led out on the easy ridge.  To the right was the throat of a steep and scary couloir; and the left was a sheer drop straight down to the glacier.  Great exposure gave this pitch a its deserved exhilaration.  We continued simul-climbing and began traversing beneath the steep walls under the summit.  At this point, we were perhaps only 200 or 300 feet below the summit but the way was still convoluted.  Michael headed around a corner out of sight.  Not liking what he saw, I was able to persuade him to downclimb and continue down to a grassy ledge.  Would this way go?  At the base, Michael answered “yes”.  Whew!  So, I carefully downclimbed the steep and awkward pitch and headed out.  After negotiating another off-balance downclimb by jamming my feet in ice and kicking steeps in snow, I headed off horizontally on slick mossy rocks.  At the base of another ledge with a large snowdrift, I set up a belay and started to despair.  “Arr, no more hard pitches, please!”, I thought.  But in front of me I saw a sheer black wall.  Though it was crisscrossed with narrow grassy ledges, it was quite smooth and was glistening black from moisture in the occasional sun breaks.  Michael talked some optimism into me (thanks!) and headed off.  After a thin move on a smooth face, he was able to gain the ledges which were, sure enough, quite easy.  We were on our way again -  a testament to positive thinking!  I led the final long simul-pitch which was easy except for 3 or 4 crux moves, some with snow and ice again and others with short moves on thin holds.  Finally, however, we topped out between the false and true summits.

If the ascent of this route was quite complicated (and it was), the descent was anything but.  We bounded down the Colchuck Glacier and down the trail arriving at the car sometime around 10pm, seventeen hours later.  We’ve started the season with a bang.

Tomyhoi Peak

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After a full day of looking for the trailhead for Mount Rexford and being intimidated by dark stagnant clouds when we finally did find it, Michael and I decided on a simpler alternative: the southern route on Tomyhoi Peak. The day before was almost comical. We’d relied on incorrect elevations, but more damningly, I had somehow come under the impression that the turnoff for the Rexford trailhead was the second left turn not the right. To make matters worse, at that second turnoff, the incorrect elevations were right on. “The trail should be right here! Here’s the hairpin turn and we’re at 2820 feet of elevation. Where is this trail!” We also ended up biking (thankfully we used bikes on the long washed out logging road) into the U.S. in our search for the trailhead. In the end, we chalked it up to experience. At least we now know where all these trailheads that we’ll be using in the future are.

After a nice dinner at Pizza Hut in Chilliwack, we drove back through the border (and I lost my passport – I still don’t know how), got on to the Mount Baker trail and headed for the Twin Lakes road and the Tomyhoi Peak trailhead. We were following the Beckey guide which mentioned 2.4 miles and 2460 feet of elevation once turning onto the road. Well, we passed that seeing no signs of a trailhead. Here we go again. “We’re going to have all our trailhead troubles rolled into one trip this weekend”, we thought. We continued on and soon were at the trailhead for Tommyhoi Lake, Gold Run Pass, and Yellow Aster Butte, well beyond where Beckey’s book described and the trailhead that I’d remembered from my infamous trip to American Border Peak. We decided to at least pull over and throw the bags down and get some sleep and then try to find the trailhead by light in the morning.

We awoke to a clear morning, though we had big dropplets of dew all over our bags. This morning was significantly colder than previous summer mornings. Fall is on the way. We calculated the distance to the rumored trailhead in reverse, hopped in the car, and headed out. At the exact elevation, we saw an abandoned road that turned into a trail. Our mileage, however, looked to be a little off. With self-doubts magnified after the previous day’s difficulties, we still decided to try it. The trail soon constricted down to a small path and then became enveloped in brush, wet brush at that. I took the lead blasting through wet blueberries, ferns, low-growing evergreens, and other typical Cascadian foliage. After twenty minutes of this, I stopped just before a set of soaking bushes, reluctant to go on. Michael expressed his doubts. I didn’t want to turn around and try yet another trail. Instead of giving up, we pressed on and vowed to make it to old growth and out of the brush within 10 minutes or call it a day. I did feel confident that this trail would lead us somewhere. After all, due to our mileage calculations and the fact that we were trending east a good bit, meant that we must at least be between the desired trail and the Gold Run Pass trail. If anything, this trail ought to lead us somewhere. So, we would continue on or die in the process.

Well, within a minute we were indeed in old growth forest that started climbing steeply. The trail was easily travelled. We learned later that this route has been abandoned (duh) and all trails start at the Gold Run Pass trailhead. We pressed on, only losing the trail once in a section ripe with many “green spirits”. Back on a solid trail in deep forest and after passing a few small creeks we suddenly emerged onto a heather meadow with small ponds. At this point we knew we were on the right track. Maybe we could indeed salvage a good weekend after this incredibly bumpy start and our climb off Tomyhoi would not be a “Tommy Boy”. We continued on passing a rocky cliff on the right and ascending steeply until we emerged onto the lovely Yellow Aster meadows. Across the vast expanse to the northeast, we could see the bulk of American Border Peak and straight ahead of us, we saw Tomyhoi. Behind us, the views are expansive. You can see Mount Baker and Mount Shuksan in all their alpine glory. This is a great spot to just hike to, perhaps stay the night, and then head back. There were people up here doing just that – we saw three tents scattered around.

A trail before us wended its way steeply up the base of Tomyhoi for about 400 feet. The slopes then became more gentle. The Tomyhoi massif is very large and resembles a Colorado Peak in some ways. It was a nice change of pace – for once we weren’t hauling a rope, gear, shoes, helmets, and so on. Our day packs were very light, holding a little more than food, water, and a jacket. As we climbed higher, the views opened up even more. We could see to the Cheam range in Canada and southward to the Pickets where we’d been three weeks earlier. The trail meandered along and we passed a large flock of ptarmigans. Careful counting revealed no less than eight around the trail. Higher up, we had to drop down the first and most significant notch. We dropped perhaps 300 feet then climbed steeply up to slopes that were more broken and covered with scree. The trail continued to be in great shape. Below, we were able spot at least two other climbers on the mountain. We could see the summit in the distance. As we followed the trail up to the ridge, we encountered a party of three who gave us route information. We couldn’t stay on the ridge crest since it cliffed out. Instead, we’d need to climb along the top of the bergeschrund. Well, we had no ice axes or crampons. We’d have to see how this would work out.

Climbing along the bergeschrund was actually tricky without crampons or ice axes. It would have been easy just to scamper along the crest, but we had to scoot and stem our way along with rock on the left side and snow on the right side with a hole in the middle. It wasn’t too hard, just more annoying knowing that without the gear it was so much slower. The end of the snow scrambling featured a steep finish to level snow. There were big cups in the snow which made it much easier than where we’d just come from. Continuing to stem on rock and snow got us to the top without incident. Here we could get back up on rock and scramble up to the ridge 40 feet above. We cut along the back (left) side of the ridge on a nice trail along a ledge to another notch. An easy downclimb got us to the base of the final scramble. It looked steep but turned out to be easy 3rd class scrambling (maybe 4th if you’re using the Colorado standard – OK, enough jabs). We then were looking for a fifty foot gable. “Just what exactly is a ‘gable’?”, we asked. We knew it had something to do with a house (siting “The House of the Seven Gables”) but were a little embarassed that we didn’t know. Well, it turns out we correctly identified it. We travelled along the right side of a small formation that resembled a long roof. In fact, the definition of a gable is: “n. the vertical triangular end of a building from cornice or eaves to ridge.” And that’s the story of how we learned the meaning of “gable”. Above the gable, at a prominent ledge, we got on the ridge crest and scrambled easy slopes to the top.

We enjoyed great views around. To the rugged beauty of the North Cascades to the south to the logging roads and clear cuts of British Columbia to the north. We could see our original objective, Mount Rexford and the Nesakwatch Spires, in the distance. I think this view made Michael more excited about them. Perhaps we can hit this area in October if we’re lucky enough to get a spell of Indian Summer the way we did last year on West McMillan Spire. After a long lounge on the summit, we headed down. We were debating which way to go on the return. We could do a little extra and hike out Yellow Aster Butte trail to the trail head that we slept at and hitchhike down to our car below. We did see a trail that no doubt led there so we decided to give it a try. We were moving pretty fast and still had a good amount of daylight. We decided to throw in a quick hike up Yellow Aster Butte as well, which gave us good views down into Tomyhoi Lake. The return trip along the trail the runs into the main trail just below Gold Run Pass was a delight. The trail is a fun and gentle path along open slopes affording excellend views the entire way. When we arrived at the junction, we decided to run up real quick to Gold Run Pass. Heck, why not throw in a couple more hundred feet of elevation! It was all just for another view! On the way down, we stopped and chomped on some excellent huckleberries. Some fishermen passed us along the way and we struck up a conversation. They kindly offered to give us a ride back to our car. The hike out was uneventful other than it was extremely FAST. Those fishermen could move! Though travelling at top speed, I got left behind by about a minute or two. We enjoyed a bumpy ride in the back of a pickup down to the abandoned “Keep Cool” trailhead where our car was parked.

Pickets Traverse – Day 7

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We took our time again this morning.  All we had to do today was hike out.  Hiking down the Barrier and finding our way down to Terror Creek was the plan.  We’d abandoned the idea of attempting to make our way through the Barrier, across Terror Basin, and to the trail that Michael and I were on last year when we did West McMillan Spire.

We made our way across slabs then a long section of tedious boulders before ascending steeply to Stump Hollow.  At this point the Chopping Block was right in front of us.  I would have done it had Michael and Aidan been in to it.  Aidan insisted “no”.  He was probably right and both Michael and I conceded.  We decided not to get greedy.  The trip was already hugely successful; we’d just hike out today.

Stump Hollow is a dry and barren area consisting of not much more than slabs and heather.  We were lucky enough, however, to find some melting snow which we thirstily drank.  I should mention at this point that we only had half of our water bottles.  I can’t remember exactly where (I think Mount Fury), but my nozzle on my camel back had popped off and vanished in the rocks.  Later, when descending Mount Fury, I must have inadverdently placed Michael’s water bottle somewhere that I did not notice.  When we needed it; it was nowhere to be found.  So, I hiked out with no water but instead took advantage of streams like the one we found in Stump Hollow.  They were few and far between in this area though.  We entered the trees above the Barrier and eventually found a trail.  We were most thankful.  The Barrier frankly looks impossible to get through at this point; I wouldn’t even bother trying.  Instead, we continued to drop down to the magic number of 3400 feet where we’d start looking for a way down.  We did get off the trail during one section and spent some minutes bushwhacking around.  After a suggestion to get back on the Barrier crest, we headed up and found the trail again.  We continued to follow it down, thankful to be in the trees away from the sweltering sun, although it was still super hot in the forest.  We stopped to took a break and everyone stripped off their shirts to dry out.  We were soaked!  We ate the remainder of our food, mine anyway was finished.  Not long after we started we saw some flagging, then some more over the edge, apparently descending.  Our altimeters were reading high, we later discovered, about 300-400 feet.  They reported 3760 or so.  We decided to chance it and descend.  We rationalized that the flags were placed on the ascent and decided to try it out.  Except for one spot where we lost the trail and later regained it, it was quite followable.  When I say that, I mean “followable” in terms of the Barrier’s reputation and the Pickets in general.  The pine needled slopes were so steep that we opted to put on crampons for the majority of it.  All in all, it wasn’t too bad.  Near the bottom of the valley “U”, we took off crampons and made our way to the thundering sound of Terror Creek, still following a trail.  I was actually quite suprised (and delighted) about how quickly we got down to Terror Creek.

At the creek, we dropped packs and rested.  Aidan ran over to the creek for water as Michael and I chatted.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Aidan fall in.  By the time, I was able to make my way around a fallen log to get to him, he’d already gone under, re-emerged, and pulled himself out absolutely soaked.  He cursed himself for picking the spot with the rapids to fetch water when there was a nice placid pool to the left.  At least he didn’t rushed down stream where fallen logs and boulders were waiting, but he was utterly drenched.  While Aidan dried out, I dunked my head a few times in the pool.  Aaaah!!!  So refreshing!  My enthusiasm finally was too much for Michael and, though he is loath to get himself wet, dunked his head satisfyingly into  the water as well.  We slung on our packs (Michael had fashioned garbage sack socks for Aidan) and made our way across the giant fallen tree to the other side where no trail and lots of devil’s club was awaiting us.  The coolness of Terror Creek gave way to more hot sweat as we thrashed through the brush looking for signs of a trail.  There were only faint hints.  Aidan led us up through a section with me following.  Not after too long, another scream of pain came from Michael and, knowing what it was, we all ran through the devils club and other brush nearly tripping down a steep embankment before stopping.  Michael was stung again and we all lay in the brush catching our breath.  We dragged ourselves back up the slopes looking for a reputed climbers trail.  No luck.  We traveled for a while seeing nothing, Michael was low, Aidan was in the middle, and I was high.  After a few minutes, I shouted, “Trail!” and the others excited came up.  We followed the thin climbers trail through muddy gullies and more steep pine needles making our towards Goodell Creek.  We lost the trail a few times and spread out again and rediscovered it.  I was up in front again and the trail suddenly started looking like what I remembered when Michael and I inadverdently followed it partially a year before (we’d missed the turn up to Terror Basin).  Sure enough, I arrived at the flat campsite area where the trail turnoff was.  We were finally at the end of all unknowns and on our way out.

The Goodell Trail seemed to go quickly.  We’d been begging for a long time, “can we just have some simple hiking!?” and finally we could enjoy simple walking.  Aidan and I took the opportunity to jump into Goodell Creek when the trail came within a few feet of the trail.  Michael went on up ahead with my mp3 player (he’d forgotten his).  The water was really cold but it felt so good.  The only downside was the current was pretty strong and the creek bed was “baby head” rocks that were difficult to walk on.  There wasn’t much complaining from us though.  The remainder of the hike out was uneventful except for two events:  One, getting a good look at the massive rock slide on the opposite side of the creek that occurred after the torrential fall and early winter raining.  The other occurred when we rounded another near the creek bank.  There was a section of the shore roped off with odd red flags.  There was someone lying down under a blanket with a wide-eyed stare on him.  Being a bit weirded out, Aidan and I snuck away whispering to ourselves, “Did you see that?  What the heck was that?”  Very strange.  A diverted trail near the end deposited us into Goodell campground which is near where we left Michael’s car.  There were other similar strange folk sitting quietly around these flags.  At least they let us pass in peace.

We met back up with Michael at the car and drove quickly back to Ross Lake trailhead to pick up my car.  Along the way we shouted, hooted, and hollered in our excitement having completed the trip!  Man, what a fantastic feeling.  At the Ross Lake parking lot, I discovered that my car’s battery was mysteriously dead.  I have no idea how this happened.  I didn’t have my lights on and none of the lights were toggled on.  It’s still a mystery.  I approached some other climbers at the other end of the parking lot to ask them for a jump.  It turned out to be the party of five, then four, then three!  Well, that was good luck.  It turned out that’d seen us descending the steep face on Mount Fury.  We, likewise, had seen them ascending east glacier route on Mount Fury.  After my car was started we all headed down to a burger joint in Marblemount.  Michael and Aidan though were set on Mexican by the time we arrived so we just got a snack instead.  I got a blackberry milkshake which hit the spot.  Later on, at this expensive place in Burlington called “El Cazador”, we got our Mexican food.  Unfortunately, it was some of the worst I’d ever had.  Bah, no matter!  Just sitting there enjoying each others company and reminiscing about the trip was enough.  Trip of a lifetime, fellas!

Michael has given this trip the just respect it deserves in a well thought-out and unique web page.  This is way beyond the typical trip report.  Check it out here.