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.
Posted 4 years, 8 months ago at 3:57 am. Add a comment
To sneak in and nab Dragontail in a day was the plan. The dreary forcast called for yet another weekend of unsettled weather. Leavenworth looked reasonable at “partly cloudy” on Saturday and torrents on Sunday. Why not try a grade IV climb in a day…we’ve got to do something alpine this weekend! Getting a close look at Dragontail from Colchuck Lake, I’d forgotten how immense it’s north face was. We’re going all the way up there up that route? Awesome!
Michael and I decided that a car camp and avoiding an early morning two hour drive would be best so we set out from west of the Cascades in cloudy weather around 9:15pm. On arriving in Leavenworth, I noticed the stars and clear skies above us. We both were quite sleepy when we pulled into the campsite that Michael, Aidan, and I had used on Memorial Day 2003. We threw bivy sacks and sleeping bags down on the ground and slept soundly for 5-6 hours. I opened my eyes early in the morning and took a gander at the brightly lit surroundings. Oh no! We’ve overslept again! I yelled at Michael to wake up to which he replied in a pathetically tired voice, “No, it’s only 4:53, we can sleep for seven more minutes.” OK. Michael actually reported that it was light around 4 in the morning. What a great time of the year. We readied our things in the early morning chill and then took the short mile drive to the trailhead. We started hiking around 5:45.
We made quick progress up the trail. It seemed like no time at all had passed when we’d arrived at the first bridge and then at the turnoff to Colchuck Lake. All the previous times that I’d been here were in early May and they left an indelible memory. After all the falls through snow holes, the slips, the soaked boots, well everything having to do with wet snow, I was thoroughly enjoying the dry trail. Soon enough we were at the lake and then making our way up the Colchuck Glacier and patches of moriane to the base of the climb. The distance and elevation from the lake to the climb did not appear far, but, as usual, it was.
We continued on past campsites, some of which were occupied, and arrived at the base of the glacier. The snow was quite hard and sparkling and we took the time to put on crampons so we wouldn’t have to spend extra energy teetering one way or another trying to keep our balance. We were now in the sun which beamed down on us intensely. It was nice for a change and we happily put on our sunscreen. From where we were, it was nearly 1100 feet to the base of the climb, although it certainly didn’t look like it.
There was a small bergeschrund at the base of the wall that gave access to a short and semi-steep snowfield that led to the base of the rock. Here, we decided to keep our crampons on since the terrain looked reasonably easy (3rd and 4th class) and would soon lead us to another snowfield. Dry tooling seemed pretty easy, definitely easier and much less stressful than what was to come -- the steep snow traverse. Normally, this is just a continuation of 3rd and 4th class rock that we were on. Now, it was a traverse hard and steep snow with a scary cliff at the base of it. Because it was a rightward traverse, our right legs, especially the calves, became very sore supporting us. There were a few places to stop and rest, but by the nature of the scary terrain, we wanted to move through it quickly. I found this part of the climb easily the scariest and probably would have liked to have been roped up here. Actually, I felt very secure, but on the off chance of a slip, things could have turned ugly. Michael continued up snow on one section but I opted to get off the snow as soon as possible and enjoy the solid granite. Finally, we were at the base of the first 5th class pitch. We stopped to put on our shoes and get some lunch. By now, clouds had moved in to block out the sun. It looked liked the weather would hold though.
I led up the first pitch which was rated at 5.7. The beginning was problematic because the normally easy way was covered in snow, and I was done with climbing on hard snow (and I had my shoes). So, I decided to go straight up an open book and try to traverse over. This turned out to be quite difficult and I needed to back down, well beyond 5.7 (and there’s only one 5.7 crux at the top). So, I backed down, looked right, looked left, and opted to put both feet on the snow with solid handholds. That worked and I was on my way, although after a long delay. The climbing was easy for the most part, mostly low 5th class. There were series of corners and open books and I generally tended to stay on the left side where the rock was smoother, but with less lichen. The climbing was good. I could see the distinct leaning tower that marked the end of the first pitch very close to me as I approached the final crux, which was a burly short chimney that required a semi-strenuous lieback. Then, I passed the tree with the rap sling on it as some route descriptions mentioned and I was on the broad ledge that led around the leaning tower to the crux 5.8-5.9 pitch. I was expecting a reasonable belay station over there with slings and all -- there were none. I had to build my own. Not a problem, but I was just surprised.
The next pitch was the crux and Michael opted to go straight up the thin crack system. There was a corner option as well to the left that’s rated 5.8/5.9 that looked easier except when you got to the top, where the corner starts to arc over towards the climber and the footholds look really thin. The small crack was pretty tricky. Handjams were a little scarce for me and I ended up following the pitch using “gym” techniques by leaning way out and counter-balancing to get my feet higher to easier footholds (the lower part is more difficult). At the top of the crack, after a delicate shift to the right to a blockier section, I followed up a great hand crack corner. I found it awkward to use both foot and hand jams at the same time so I hand jammed my way up while keeping my feet placed out on small face holds.
I headed out for pitch three which turned out to be my favorite of the climb. It was rated 5.7 and felt like a joyous cruise up super solid granite on fun terrain where a solid hold was just where you needed it. The first part was definitely the trickiest -- a slick open book. This section protected well, but my pasted feet tended to slip while placing gear. Once I got a single piece in, I just opted to inelegantly heave my way to the top where the fun part started. The next long section was a fun corner that also featured nice views down to the glacier below. We could see little tiny ant men making their way up to the col. I wondered if they could see us.
I brought Michael up to a confined belay stance at a small and stunted evergreen. As he arrived at the top, he asked, “Do you feel any raindrops?” “No.” But before many minutes a little groppel started falling. Fortunately, the little bean bag balls bounced off the rock and collected on the level ground and wasn’t causing a problem. Michael led off on pitch 4 that was easy except for a short awkward chimney to squeak through. Beyond that, we began the long pitches of simul-climbing. We were relieved to be above the hardest climbing, but the falling snow was a little unnerving. We realized that we needed to just press on quickly and go up an over the peak; retreating back down the route would be hard and tedious.
I characterize the climbing on the upper pitches as relatively solid, although we had to take care on our holds. The climbing gets more loose the further away from the ridge crest we got, so we strived to stay right on the crest. It seemed like each pitch had short easy crux sections of 5.2-5.6.
We wisely decided to stop and put on our shells. The snowfall increased and eventually developed into flake. The flakes, unlike the groppel, would fall and melt directly on the face, quickly making the climb wet. At one point, Michael was leading and yelled down for me to put him on belay. I paid the rope out slowly, which unfortunately meant that the section was hard. I then went on belay and followed up. At this point, I had on no gloves and the snow was coming down really hard. I saw the difficulty in front of me: a sloping wet and mossy slab with a narrow crack on the left. The crack, as it turned out, was too shallow for any protection and Michael had essentially soloed it. I don’t think I would have tried that myself. There was a fixed pin in the crack but it wasn’t clipped and when I grabbed it, it pulled right out. I delicately made my way up, at one point nearly losing it; I was thankful for the belay. The snow was dumping on me now and my hands had a layer of snow on them and lots was falling down my open sleeves. I pressed on and at the top wrung the snow out and tightened down my jacket. At the belay, I continued on. The snow abated and eventually stopped, probably about an hour after starting. The sun, while it didn’t come out, shined through enough the high clouds to warm us up and help dry out the rock. A gentle wind also lent a helping hand. The rock became dry pretty quickly actually.
At this point I was just ready to be on the top in case the clouds decided to open up again. However, we were back to our usual joking mode and the climbing again became enjoyable and less stressful. Michael led out one final pitch below the summit block that led us through a steep and difficult overhanging crack. The crack was filled with ice. At this point, I didn’t care about being a purist and unabashedly grabbed on the gear to get myself to a better stance. Off to the right about 50 feet was easier terrain. Shucks, we could have gone that way. Oh well, no matter. At the top of this pitch was a section of snow. We could see the summit of the peak right in front of us. Because of time and snow, we opted to put on our boots and gaiters and take the standard route around the left side of the summit block and on up 3rd class slopes to the summit instead of the direct 5.7 finish to the summit. The snow traverse was fun and exposed and I paused a bit to get some video footage. We rounded the corner and scrambled our way a short distance to the top. Wow, it felt good to have the tough climbing behind us. We enjoyed sitting on the summit for 30 minutes or so. The clouds started descending again though and Stuart passed out of view.
The descent off the back side of Dragontail was a breeze and we enjoyed a beautifully long glissade on perfect snow. Aasgard Pass was a little more problematic, more scree and harder snow. At one point, I got out of control on my glissade and smacked into Michael. We both had to self arrest. After that, I opted to plunge step my way down. Michael, though, enjoyed the glissade-arrest-glissade-arrest approach and he got way out in front of me. That gave him the opportunity to go up Colchuck Glacier a hundred feet or so and retreive our hiking poles that we’d stashed.
We had a pleasant hike out. Finally, I felt in shape enough to not feel utterly exhausted and sick at the end of the climb, so I actually enjoyed the hike out. However, I did end up lying down on the bare rock at Mountaineers Creek while it gently drizzled on me. Michael decided to join in on the sleep and as he passed by he woke me up startling me -- ok, I guess I was really tired after all. We also passed some interesting folks who asked lots and lots of questions about rock climbing. Michael was pleasant with them and answered their queries, while I just quietly sat back and enjoyed the rest; I wasn’t really lively enough to talk much. I had forgotten to bring my headlamp on the climb (as my Colorado friends would say, “Well, it wouldn’t be a real trip if Theron didn’t forget something!”), however, we hiked out fast enough to arrive just in time before the sun set. I was really excited to have Dragontail under my belt, especially such a cool route!
Trip statistics: 12 miles, 6000 feet, 15 hours
Posted 6 years, 1 month ago at 1:05 am. Add a comment
Herein is the story of the much anticipated climb of Eldorado Peak. I’d been looking forward to the fabled snow arete for a long time. Plus, a chance to get out into the North Cascades is always exciting. Ken arrived in Seattle late on Friday night. I was surprised, but we stuck to our original plan of going to bed right away instead of playing ping pong and the usual goofy activities before heading out to the mountains. We did though; we left for the Marblemount Ranger Station early on Saturday. The forecast was good and the weather looked clear, a sharp contrast from our soggily thwarted attempt on McMillan Spire. At the Marblemount station, the ranger informed us that the river was running high and the log crossing featured a 30 degree pitch on it. We both started getting a big nervous about the log crossing! Some call this the crux of the climb. We drove out to the road and got a peak now and then through the thick vegetation at the north fork of the Cascade River; indeed it looked swift. Ah, the moment of anticipation!
We hiked down the road from the parking lot and found the trail easily enough. Soon enough we were at the log crossing. It looked awful! It was very high up…then fortunately we realized the that part in the air was a different section of the trunk that we didn’t have to climb. Apparently, a brand new tree fell across the original log this year, making the crossing much trickier. The original log looked really easy. Fortunately, the new log is only utilized during the first third of the crossing and isn’t near 30 degrees…more like 15. There was another party here on the way down – an Alpine Ascents party. The first member of the team sat down and scooted his way down the steep log. Then, he had to jump from the dirt encrusted roots to the shore…he ended up face planting! The other team members let Ken and I go next. We ascended the log standing very carefully to the part where we downclimbed to the old log. (We ended up scooting our way down too on the way back) The old log is a very simple crossing. I can’t believe people used to make a big deal out of it. Shortly after crossing the river, we had to dodge branches and logs here and there until we got out onto a good climbers trail.
The trail ascended steeply to the left of Eldorado Creek. We didn’t mind; we both knew that we were lucky to have a trail and were grateful! We passed the time with the usual discussions and were happy to see that we were moving pretty quickly. Soon enough we came to the edge of a large slide alder patch. The trail ascended steeply to the left through some trees with cascading root systems to the entrance of a talus field marked with cairns. Also, the weather wasn’t quite as clear as we were hoping. By this time, we had ascended to the level of the clouds and were climbing in a thin mist. At least the cloud cover kept us cool. The talus field led through a notch of slide alder along a steep and muddy trail to a second talus field. This field had snow in it and at first it was tedious to cross at the beginning. We poked through several times. We eventually got on to more solid snow and made our way though forest and emerged to see the obvious small ridge that divides Eldorado and Roush basins. We followed a boot path to the top of the ridge.
At the top of the ridge, we took a break (there was a group of four bivy sacks near the spot where we needed to downclimb) before making the downclimb into the gully that would land us on Eldorado Glacier. At the base of the gully, there was a small moat that was easily negotiated by simply jumping. We then began the final slog up Eldorado Glacier to Inspiration Glacier and our campsite.
The views from the Eldorado Glacier were great, but fraught with wispy swirling clouds. We got a couple of clear views of the Triad, a peak we considered climbing, but that was to be all we would see of the Triad on this trip. We headed up the boot path and made our way to the Inspiration Glacier. I gave out a triumphant yell as I topped out on the level part of the glacier. I was able to see another potential objective: Klawatti Peak. It looked quite doable from this spot which would be our campsite. The only questionable thing was the weather. We got one view of the remote basin housing Moraine Lake to the east (right) but we were never able to see Forbidden Peak until the last day, and even then just the outline really. But, the peaks looked awesome and we were inspired. Soon after, clouds enveloped our camp.
We spent the rest of the afternoon getting everything ready, securing the tent, cooking, and so on. We went to bed with wind singing in the background. I think we both fell asleep really fast. We awoke the next morning to more clouds. We both looked out at different times and upon seeing the weather, went back to bed. Maybe it would clear up later on. I can’t remember what time we got up, but it was really late! Something like 9 o’clock. There was still absolutely no visibility. An hour or two later, Ken went back to sleep and I entertained myself by working on map and compass skills for two hours or so! The rest of the time we played the peak game that Aidan had taught me – a simple little thing where one person names a mountain and the other person has to name a mountain that starts with the letter of the last letter of the previous peak. The process repeats. This game eats up a lot of time, surprisingly. We adapted it to other things as well like Lord of the Rings. On a whim, I looked out and to my excitement, saw that the cloud had cleared somewhat. By this time it was about 3 in the afternoon.
“Dude! It’s clear.”
“What do you think? Peaks?”
“Yeah, now’s a good time. Peaks.”
“OK, peaks. Let’s get ready.”
“Awww! Peaks!”
We were ready quickly. We roped up and headed off. The route from this point was straightforward. We headed for a small notch to the left of the last point of rock on the east ridge. We then turned left and began climbing the long ridge. Shortly thereafter, the clouds encircled us again. No visibility. Bits of the ridge would open up now and then only to reveal that we had further to go but the weather only eventually worsened. We pressed on. Ken’s old boots had started breaking down and his feet were soaked and getting cold. We pressed on though. The snow was quite deep and it was hard to not break through up to our knees. Still, there was no need for snowshoes on this trip. Soon enough we arrived at a junction. We capped out on a small ridge and to the left, the snow arete appeared. Alright! We started up. The exposure was great but not as scary when we could only see maybe twenty feet in front of us. We could make out the very precipitous drops around us: maybe 60 degrees to the left and 70 to the right! Man, if only we could see more! It had started snowing and sleeting on us as well. The arete isn’t too painfully long – about 200 feet. We were on the summit before we knew it!
We had to get down quickly though since Ken’s feet were getting really cold now. I think one of his toenails fell off as a result – way to hang in there to get the summit! Anyway, the descent was quite sloppy. We bounded and bashed our way through the slushy snow and jumped into the tent. We were happy to make the summit but a little sad we didn’t have any views. Ah well, these things happen in the Cascades. We did entertain the idea of climbing the peak again (it didn’t take long at all from camp) if the weather cleared. We had another good meal and turned in, playing a few more word games. This night was much more windy and snowy than the first and we awoke to a rime-coated tent! The weather was still poor. We waited an hour or so and began breaking down camp. Soon after, the weather started breaking and we got a little sunhit. We had our best views of Eldorado Peak yet!
We only briefly considered climbing the peak. Ken’s feet were really cold and both of his socks were damp. We decided to head down instead. We were able to glissade a decent amount of the route. One very interesting part of the trip, and quite scary, was when we decided to glissade through the trees. We had done this before several times, most notable on Buffalo Mountain in the Gore Range of Colorado. Things were a little different this time. Ken headed off first down a steep hill that eventually smoothed out before hitting another hill. I followed and picked up speed fast. A little too fast because I wiped out and had to start again. As I crested the next hill, I saw Ken yelling something at me. I finally heard him: “Stop!! Stop!!” But it was too late: I saw the 10 – 15 foot waterfall yawning before me with the water cascading underneath a hole in the snow at the base. Before I could even think, I turned on my right side trying to veer out of its path. I moved out of the way enough to where I flew over the falls to the right and hit the lip of the snow, bounced forward on my stomach and landed on top of Ken. Ken hadn’t fared as well and actually hit the cascading water on rock but fortunately catapulted onto the snow at the base of the falls. We both lay still for a while and then expressed our gratitude that we escaped that without any harm, only a small cut on my thumb from my ice axe, I guess.
Well, we were done with glissading and made a point to learn from our mistake and not glissade to casually in the Cascades which are riddled with waterfalls and streams. We hit the talus field on the way down which was much more treacherous on the descent than ascent. We actually did end up slowly glissading parts of it to prevent ourselves from punching through! We were finally out of the snowy part of the talus and slowly made our way down the steep muddy trail to the second talus field and finally back to the comfortable trail. The descent was easy enough but we had one last crux: crossing the north fork of the Cascade River. It turned out not to be as bad as we were expecting. We just needed to scoot on our rear ends slowly and that was all there was to it.
Posted 7 years, 1 month ago at 1:40 am. Add a comment
