Tag Archives: Stuart

Mount Stuart-North Ridge

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Michael and I planned on doing Mount Stuart’s classic North Ridge last year, but fires had closed access to the trailheads and thus we ended up going to West McMillan Spire.  Stuart would wait another year.  For a trip that had been discussed for a long time, it certainly began in a chaotic fashion. At the last minute, we ditched our weekend plans for a climb due to weather and opted to take off a Wednesday the following week where the weather window seemed to be at its best. We left later than planned on Tuesday afternoon but were soon on our way. Our original intent was to do the full ridge from the Mountaineers Creek trailhead but we dashed those plans again at the last minute when we thought the Sherpa glacier would be to difficult to descend. So, the plan was set during the drive out for an approach from Ingalls Pass.  Maybe that would work out well for us; every time I’ve been up Mountaineers Creek (three times), I’ve had cloudy weather.  Every time I’ve been up Ingalls Pass (once), I’ve had good weather. Ingalls Pass is now two for two.

On the way out, Michael made a quick stop at Albertsons to buy food for the trip. For dinner, he had some fried chicken which he kindly shared a tasty breast. We were soon on our way up Ingalls Pass and on to Ingalls Lake where we decided to ultimately camp. We’d talked about Stuart Pass or Goat Pass, but Ingalls Lake was definitely the best with its abundant supply of water and numerous choices for camping. Actually, you’re not allowed to camp at the lake, the sites we used were on rock a hundred or two yards from the lake. Thanks to the chicken down at the car, there was no need to bring cooking gear in. We had a small dessert and turned in.

4:15 came too soon for me (as always). But we packed up quickly (the quick packing job is key for an upcoming story regarding food) and were headed out by 4:45. The morning promised to be clear and warm. In the distance, we could see Glacier Peak in the sunrise. The trail dropped us down along the edges of a meadow then brought us steeply back up to the ridge and Stuart Pass. The trip over to Goat Pass went without a hitch and we were soon getting good looks at the north ridge of Stuart. Our trip to Goat Pass had taken much shorter than we had anticipated. We stopped to take a break and as I began digging in the top of my pack I uttered a disappointed, “Uh oh.” Michael was naturally startled and instantly worried since I have been known to forget important items from time to time. “I think I left my food back at camp”, I said. So, for the rest of the day, I shared Michael’s food. Well, at least I didn’t forget rock shoes, harness, or something like that. The climb would obviously continue.

We spotted another party at the bivy site on the Stuart Glacier and some steep but easy traversing on the Stuart Glacier brought us to the friendly folk. One had climbed the ridge five times, but never the Great Gendarme. We continued past them and got to the base of the ridge and decided that we’d better try to load up on water here. We found a good stream in a moat a hundred feet up the glacier that was easily retrieved. We then traversed along the top of the moat to the snow tongue that led to the ridge. The climb up was easy; I was thankful for the nice cup steps. The rock portion was rated 4th class, but in my suspicious eyes, it felt like easy 5th class to me. Up on the ridge, around 8 in the morning, the wind greeted us. We donned rock shoes and Michael headed off for the first pitch. The plan was to simul climb for as long as we could so that we’d have plenty of time to tackle the Great Gendarme.

The first pitch started out typical enough, but not classic: Moving along blocky exposed ledges, swinging around wide corners of 3rd and 4th class terrain. The first 5.7 pitch started as an “open book” complete with small grassy ledges. “Hey, this reminds me of something like the West Face of Sloan Peak. I want to get to the good stuff”, I thought to myself. Well, above the open book, Michael belayed me up and I got a look at some nice golden granite. I headed out for my turn at the lead. The climbing was still easy, mostly 4th class, until I got to a steep step. I brought Michael around a large corner to prevent rope drag and he then belayed me up the steep section. It was much fun, maybe rated 5.7 as well, I suppose. Beyond this, I could cover lots of ground. The terrain then turned to beautiful, super-clean, gray granite. We cruised along big solid granite flakes until I ran out of slings and brought Michael up and under a short Tarzan move to lead the third simul-climbing pitch.

The third pitch was a classic, maybe the best (along with the 4th) climbing on the entire route. After a short offwidth section, the pitch became a long, steep, and exposed hand traverse. The most difficult part of the traverse only lasted for 150 feet or so then gave way to more moderate and enjoyable clean granite flakes. For the most part, the route followed the crest of the ridge and both sides fell away steeply – to the left, the Ice Cliff Glacier and to the right, the Stuart Glacier.

I don’t remember where the 3rd pitch ended and the 4th began, but the great terrain continued. The 4th pitch was the longest, I believe. At this point, I was having so much fun and feeling so confident that I was placing gear very sparsely. At the top of a tall tower, I downclimbed and arrived at the famous slab with the large crack. The slab was low angle and felt really easy. We cruised up it to the top of another tower where a downclimb brought us to the famous spot where the pictures are taken – the 5.7 hand traverse. OK, I need to place a piece of gear so I found an excellent cam placement and moved past the traverse to a delicate downclimb to a huge fractured slab that led up to the base of the Great Gendarme. I think I only had two more pieces of gear to use on this long stretch but I was able to find temporary homes for them. At the base of the gendarme, we had a bit to eat (of Michael’s food), a short rest, and then got ready for the first pitch of the Great Gendarme.

I’ve seen the first pitch of the Gendarme rated 5.8 and 5.9. Well, I thought it was pretty tough in any case! These were stiff ratings, no doubt – Index 5.8 and 5.9.  In fact, the Gendarme completely changes the nature of the climb.  I found it significantly more difficult than anything else on the lower route. The lower pitch consisted of three sections of downward trending liebacks – the kind where gravity can’t help you as much! From below, this pitch looked tough to me and I was glad to let Michael take the lead. It was definitely a strenuous move and Michael, certainly tired from the tribulations, belly flopped his way on to the belay station at the top of the pitch. I’m not a big fan of these liebacks (or offwidths) and had a pretty tough time with it – I was definitely breathing hard. I took one fall when I eagerly stood up too soon to grasp high for a solid horn at the top of the second lieback. Standing up meant my pasted feet had nothing to hold on to and just shot out from under me. OK, well at least I could dangle and rest a while. One more attempt got me to the top.

The marquis pitch of the Gendarme is the second – the offwidth pitch – arrr offwidth!!!  How about a perfect straight handrack?!?  Nope, not this time.  This pitch starts with a delicate rightward traverse off of the small belay tower.  Immediately, the exposure becomes great.  Not surprisingly, I found the offwidth challenging.  If I recall, the edges flared a little bit making a lieback difficult.  I was able to get one successful fistjam early but, being an offwidth, everything else seemed to slip away.  After a few rests, I made it over the initial 10 feet of the crack, the most difficult.  Higher up, the climbing became more reasonable, but still strenuous. We continued a long simul climb off the gendarme over easy terrain to the next 5.9 secion, a wall with a prominent offwidth in the center. Possible routes looked to be the center (the offwidth), to the left (nothing for feet), and a small crack slightly to the right. We chose the small crack. It was another hard 5.9. The crack was small and overhang a bit. I did my best to avoid another awkward crack and transformed the short crack move into a harder face climb. Michael had a good laugh.

Once on top of this, we had only a strecth of mostly 4th class terrain to the summit. There was an occasional 5th class move to keep things fun. At 3pm, we arrived at the top. “Not too bad”, we thought. We were certain we’d be back down to the car before the sun went down. How we underestimated the abject tedium of the Cascadian Couloir!  We walked the same long and tedious steps that we’d taken two months earlier when descending the summit after a climb of the Stuart Glacier Couloir. At least this time we weren’t continually punching through snow. We descended down the false summit again, following rock for as long as we could until we arrived at snow and then front pointed our way down slick snow to the base of the “couloir”. The Cascadian Couloir is a gently sloped and very broad couloir that was devoid of snow except for one patch about a third of the way down. At first, I thought the descent would just be one long slog. It turned out to be that until the trails faded and the sketchy cliffs appeared. Tedious downclimbing, too tedious to even recall here, got us down to solid grass but there was still steep descending to do, at least this time on a trail. Finally, on the Ingalls Creek trail we paused briefly, preparing for the three mile (at least) slog back up to our camp. There would be another 4+ miles after that. OK, this probably won’t be a hike out with light. Our goal was at least to get beyond the lake (the last of the tricky scrambling) before utter darkness moved in.

There’s not much else to tell other than we were really hungry by the time we got up to our camp. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that the skeeters down here were vicious!!!  I usually can endure without repellent but this was utterly impossible.  I already had blood splotches all over my shoulders.  I easily could kill three of those damn things with each swat.  With repellent on it seemed like there were hundreds just hovering around me.  Anyway, I wondered if my food was eaten by local critters while we were away. I couldn’t find it when we arrived. “Oh no”, I said to myself again as I checked in my pack one last time, this time to the very bottom. There was my food. “Oops, sorry about that, Michael. Here have a Twix and some Nutella!” See, the problem was that I never pack my food at the very bottom. For some reason, at 4:30 in the morning, I did. Yet another lesson learned!  We succeeded at getting past the lake by the time it got dark and hiked the rest of the way by headlamp. We ended up taking the low trail unfortunately to get us to Ingalls Pass – the low road dropped us down at least 2-300 feet that we had to regain. At Ingalls Pass we took a nice rest before beginning the starry march out. We arrived back at 12:20. Wow, a 20 hour day. It was 9 hours after we’d left the summit! The memories of those clean granite flakes will fortunately stay in my memory much longer than the unpleasant descent. It’s already starting to dissolve!

As a bonus to this climb, two days later, when I took off for a trip back home, I had the pleasure of picking a seat on the north side of the airplane in anticipation of views of the North Cascades.  As we took off, I was able to identify close peaks like Mount Si and The Tooth as well as the usual familiars to the north.  But the piece de resistance was the direct flyover of Mount Stuart where I was able to look straight down on the North Ridge!  I had to really work to suppress my excitement to those around.  “Hey!  I was there just two days ago!”

Mount Stuart-Stuart Glacier Couloir

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The weather in the North Cascades deteriorated so we headed to the Alpine Lakes for slightly unsettled weather which was apparently perfect for the Stuart Glacier Couloir route (I guess it was).  We got a deliberately late start on Saturday, leaving the Seattle area a little after noon.  After various errands and stopping for food, we drove to the Mountaineer Creek trailhead and hit the trail around 4pm.  We estimated it would take about four hours to get to high camp at the base of Mount Stuart at 5400 feet.  We brought a 60m 8.5mm rope and a fairly large rack of gear for the rock portion (we would double the 60m rope).  Michael opted for two ice tools and I decided to stick with a standard mountaineer’s axe and a single ice tool.  We made great time to Colchuck Lake turnoff, maybe an hour, and continued on to the first nice viewpoint of Mount Stuart where we took our first break, drank some water, and shot some video footage and some photos.

The next part of the hike in got a little trickier and took a lot longer.  We continued to make good time on the trail to Stuart Lake.  We needed to break off the main trail though and head for the opposite valley, which is the most convenient place to camp and climb Stuart from.  We found a major switchback and decided to break off the trail there.  At the northern fork of Mountaineers Creek we searched for a crossing of the creek.  We didn’t find anything too easy and eventually settled on a dry upward sloping log that we had to straddle and scoot across, avoiding sitting on the pointy broken limb stumps.  It was a pretty tricky crossing.  On the other side, we wondered if we’d waited too long to leave the main trail (we had), because we had a lot of uphill and then subsequent downhill on obnoxious snowy talus to get to the southern fork of Mountaineers Creek, where a trail, or at least a snowy boot path, was reputed to be.  As we were slogging our way through the talus, we heard Dan Smith calling our names!  That was great…good to see Dan and his party, who had just climbed Argonaut Peak in a very long day, and to have them guide us down to the creek.

At the creek, we had easier going for a while but got back into plenty of snowy sections where rotten holes underneath sent us falling into snow up to our thighs and waist.  We were beyond our allotted four hours but still had a reasonable amount of light.  Eventually, we finally arrived at the top of the steep slopes to the broad and snowy meadow at 5400 feet.  Our first priority was to replenish our water.  I thought I heard some up ahead but when I got up there, I could no longer hear it.  I suppose I was hearing a reflection of the creek behind us.  So, while I was setting up camp and getting the cooking supplies ready, Michael retraced his steps to fetch water.  We enjoyed a freeze dried meal (actually, I wasn’t too keen on mine this time) and the near full moon that illuminated the northeastern side of Mount Stuart.  We set the alarm for 3:30am and went to bed.

We got up at 5am…ah well.  The dim morning light revealed that the upper slopes of Stuart was now engulfed in clouds.  Drat!  That always bothers me but Michael wasn’t too worried about it.  So, we started the slog.  This route has a lot of snow climbing, step kicking, and so on in it.  So, get used to it!  However, I must admit that with the long snow slopes and the windy cloudy weather, I was not into the climb.  But I kept going.  Our first objective was to walk past the Sherpa Glacier, the Ice Cliff Glacier, and the North Ridge and ascend to the Stuart Glacier.  At the Stuart Glacier, we ascended again, making our way to the eerie couloir, whose base we could only see; the rest faded away in the clouds.  At the base of the couloir, we had already climbed 2300 feet of snow!  The couloir and the big upper snowfield constituted another 1200 feet of snow climbing!

Michael started up the couloir by crossing over the bergshrund.  Looking down the big fissure, I could see how big and how much space was down in there.  A ways up the couloir, I took the lead and continued up all the way to the base of the snowfield.  The two sections of ice weren’t problematic at all although the ice was getting quite sloppy.  Little mini fountains would pop out when I swung my pick into the ice.  The ice section is short and not that steep and we soloed all of it.  The exposure increased as we went higher and higher.  From the upper snowfield, the exposure is at it’s max; it’s a long straight shot down the couloir back to the Stuart Glacier.  The upper couloir had wet spring snow that packed on to our crampons in balls as thick as 6 inches so we were forced to take off our crampons and step kick the rest of the way.  The good news was that the weather was clearing.  We could see blue sky above us and swiftly moving clouds.  OK, there would be wind.

Sure enough, the wind greeted us at the top of the west ridge.  Still, I think I’d rather have the wind and sun rather than damp and cloudy conditions.  At this point, I realized there was no escape on this route, well no practical escape.  It would be very tedious and stressful to retrace that 3500 feet of snow.  The best way down was to continue up.  Of course, I didn’t want to go down.  The sun had given me more confidence.  We took the customary break, ate food, and got ready for rock climbing portion of the climb.  The first pitch was basically horizontal along the ridge, pretty easy going, I suppose it was 4th class.  We were wearing our stiff boots, I had my plastic boots.  I was actually a little worried about the rock climbing portion because of my boots.  We traveled along the south side of the peak, in the sun.  The second pitch led up along 5.0 terrain to the intimidating section where we had to move along thin exposed ledges of the north face…long way down to the Stuart Glacier.  Michael led the entirety of the upper pitches and headed out along a snowy exposed ledge scarcely wider than two feet.  The climbing wasn’t too hard, though rated 5th class.  Fortunately, the snow was reasonably firm and our boot placements felt solids.

At the base of the second pitch of the north face, we suspected that we could have retreated a bit to a small notch to get up on to the ridge.  It looked a little awkward, but it might work.  Instead, we pressed on ahead.  The first move was a tricky 5th class, strenuous move around a bulging rock that led to a steep snow chute allowed rock hand holds.  The rope tugged tight and I waited a moment for the belay and then started up.  The move was indeed strenuous and pretty hard (especially wearing all that gear).  I then started up the chute and discovered that Michael had just put me on belay…we actually simulclimbed that hard move.  Back up on the ridge, we enjoyed more sun and it looked like we had a couple more easy pitches before we began the two 5.6 pitches.  We traversed under the south face in sun for and then started up an easy 5th class pitch, then another up a steep face.  The final pitch was a 5.6 crack system.  I noticed Michael on his belly pulling himself up on a section of it…hmmm.  He was soon out of sight but after some minutes, the rope didn’t come tight.  I heard him yell “On Belay” and I started climbing, but the rope still didn’t come tight.  I yelled “Take!” several times, the rope slowly came in and I started up the hard crack.  In boots, this was a bear, and easily the hardest part.  It was doable with fairly good handholds, but virtually nothing for feet and it was nearly vertical.  As I pulled myself up, the rope didn’t come tight again.  So I yelled “Take!”  One of the ropes (we had the rope doubled) came a little tight, the other didn’t move.  So, I continued up to easier terrain, after the most strenuous moves of the climb, holding on just long enough to pull myself up and find tiny ledges where I could somehow hook my boots and help myself up.  I was finally on terrain easy enough that I was able to reel in the rope.  As I climbed higher, I noticed what had happened:  The rope had somehow pinched against two boulders.  I could not release it; I don’t know how it got in there.  After some finagling and digging out of pebbles and stones, I was able to free the rope.  Michael looked exhausted and said that he had spent lots of energy trying to haul in the rope.

I led ahead on easy terrain to the summit, a nice small perch with a little snow around.  The rope got snagged again and Michael got more irritated.  Over the north face was a near vertical drop to the base and I delicately handled my camera over the edge.  After a short but relaxing break on the windy summit, we headed down.  We had to descend the Sherpa Glacier.  The route to it looked a lot easier than what we’d just come up.  I suppose it was easier, but it wasn’t any less tedious.  The snow was rotten on the south side and we had to cautiously avoid falling through snow into unseen holes.  We stayed on rocks and dirt where we could.  Finally, at the Sherpa Glacier, we started a comfortable plunge step down.  The snow got a little hard near the base but we were still able to manage.  The hard crust of the snow though started to bruise our shins!  Finally, back at camp we hastily packed up – we had to make it over that scary creek crossing before the sun went down or we’d spend another night out.  But first, we had to take the time to wring out our waterlogged socks.  The spring snow was merciless and it didn’t help that my gaiters were torn, allowing the snow to seep in with each steep.  Putting the cold wet boots back on was most unpleasant.  We made a hasty retreat.

The hike out was a fast one.  It didn’t end too quickly but we moved like men on a mission.  We decided to try to follow the trail that Dan and his party had made on their way out.  Maybe they found a better crossing.  Down low, with the mixing of snow and long sections of dirt or logs, the trail became hard to follow.  We did a pretty good job of tracking the trail though and found the major creek crossing just as the light was starting to go down.  Michael had soaked himself in a small creek crossing behind us, so we were doubly motivated to move quickly.  Thanks to Dan and his party for leaving the footsteps behind.  Sure enough, the creek crossing was much simpler and we didn’t have to gain or lose any elevation.  Back on the main trail, we had a drink right out of the stream to give us a little boost for the long hike out.  By now, we had our headlamps on.  The long march was underway and we arrived back at the car, the only one remaining, at quarter past eleven.  Ug, I felt ill again from so much effort.  This time, a gas station frozen burrito and a coke was my medicine.  We took turns driving back to Seattle, though Michael got the raw deal – I slept all the way to Snoqualmie Pass.  Thanks, Michael, I owe you one!

Argonaut Peak

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Michael concocted the idea of climbing Arognaut Peak over the weekend and I was definitely up for that being my first trip into the Stuart range and for a climb of one of the seldom climbed peaks of the range.  However, I did have to talk Michael into leaving later in the morning (I had to work on him in 30 minute increments).  We got out to the trailhead around 11 am or so and I was quite excited to get started after getting a good look at Dragontail and Colchuck from the road – very alpine!

We started out on the nice trail with snow right away; there were only a few patches here and there of dry ground.  For the most part, the hike up was pretty easy.  At the turn off to Colchuck Lake, the trail became much dirtier featuring lots of post holes.  At one point I was crossing, what looked like a solid crossing over a creek when the bridge broke and soaked my left boot.  A few moments later we arrived at the lake with the fabled fantastic views of Dragontail and Colchuck Peaks.  Pictures never do the mountains justice and Dragontail looked a whole lot bigger than I had imagined it from the various pictures I’d seen.

At the lake, we stopped for a brief lunch.  Of course, at this moment, the clouds moved in and covered the tops of the peaks.  A wind picked up and it started snowing.  The food buoyed our spirits though and we headed off across Colchuck Lake to the base of the Colchuck glacier.  The view was so stupendous that I asked Michael to take a picture of me.  Michael wasn’t able to take the picture so I asked him to unlock the camera and advance the film.  Well, he’d done all that.  Unfortunately, my fully manual camera had locked up!  It hadn’t done this in a long time, don’t start now!  To make a long camera story short, I finally figured out how to make it work, I had to either breathe on it for a while or generate friction heat by locking and unlocking the shutter, then slamming the button with my finger to take the picture.  I’m sad to say, that though this worked, my pictures *stunk* for this trip!  All my high altitude extreme shots had a dark band through them.  Bleeh!  What to do…

We began the long long slog up to the top of Colchuck Glacier.  I don’t recall how long this took but it was at least a couple of hours.  We didn’t move that slowly either though I did frequently stop and fiddle with my camera (I hadn’t unravelled the mystery at this point).  At the top of the Dragontail-Colchuck col we had to descend a few hundred feet and then ascend that distance back up to the Argonaut-Colchuck col.  Argonaut was pretty impressive from this angle although it kept fading in and out of clouds.  The snow was swirling around us as well adding to the fantastic alpine mood.  I was pretty beat at this point.  In fact, at the Dragontail-Colchuck col, I nearly napped while leaning on a rock!  Finally, we made it up to the second col and we were really excited to see the fantistic views.  The top of Mount Stuart peeked out above the highest clouds.  It seemed so high and far away.  We were actually very close to the summit of Argonaut from our camp directly on the ridge.  We just needed to climb the east face to climb most directly to the summit, but our route was the more ambitious Northwest Arete.

We set up Michael’s new tent – a lightweight job consisting of no floor!  We used my trekking poles for tent poles and ice axes and Michaels poles for stakes.  It was a bit tricky to get up in our confined location but we got creative and worked it out.  Then it was on to checking out the route and getting food going.  Our route required us to downclimb steep snow for 1000 feet and then climb up another steep slope to the northwest arete.  It was really cold up here so it was good to get inside the tent with the warm tent stove.  My old tired gloves with the duct tape weren’t doing a great job of keeping my fingers warm.  Can’t blame ‘em really.  However, for your information, those gloves have now been honorably discharged – they were the first pieces of technical clothing gear that I ever bought!  After a hot meal, we turned in.  We talked for a while but I was fading fast.  Pretty soon, my responses to Michael’s commentary was “Mmm hmm”, “Uh huh” and so on.  As soon as we stopped talking, I was out – I think it took about a minute…literally!  We both slept great!

The next morning was not unlike the previous day – unsettled clouds with a light wind.  We started out down the ridge a ways before finding a slightly less steep place to get onto the primary slope that would lead us down to the bowl.  The climbing was indeed steep but nothing too extreme or strenuous.  At the bowl, we angled back up the steep snow field that hugged the base of Argonaut Peak.  We took turns kicking steps through shin to knee deep snow.  My water, though inside my pack, had frozen already.  I was able to break the ice seal on the top but it was so cold and ice that it was hard to drink any decent quantity.  At the top of the col, we were able to nestle next to a small gendarme and set up the rope.  Michael led out first around the corner where it was very hard to hear him.  Both of our voices suffered from echoes and we had to speak very slowly in order to be understood.  It took a while for us to get our bearings but eventually I felt Michael tugging the rope and putting me on belay.

I headed around the corner and, to my shock, saw the rope ascending a vertical chimney.  Hey, I’m wearing crampons and a large backpack here!  And my legs are cold since I’ve been belaying for the past few minutes!  Anyway, I started up…this was really hard stuff!  What would be comfortable and enjoyable 5.6 climbing in summer was a serious proposition with snow all over the route.  I hooked my crampons on small nubbings and pushed my way up.  After pulling out a cam I arrived at a tight hex placement.  The damn thing wouldn’t come out and both my foot holds were on crampon points.  I tugged hard and it came out hard…straight into my forehead.  I yelled disgustingly, not out of pain but out of…frustration.  OK, so then I headed up again.  My face felt a little “itchy”, sort of we, so I rubbed it with my glove.  Taking the glove away, I notieced the happy red stains on it.  So, I closed an eye and looked inward and saw blood streaming down my face.  Great.  Then I popped out and gave Michael a bit of a scare but I let him know what happend and that I was OK…no pain, just an annoyance.  But, I wondered how big the cut was.  I figured if the rest of the pitches weren’t as hard as that damn chimney, then this would be doable.  But that chimney was damn hard…I was panting for breath at the top.  The second pitch was easier, taken as a whole, but also featured a tough move that required the camming of our ice axes to get up.  Jeez…ok, what’s next? 

The next pitch was even harder.  It featured an exposed, snow-covered slab, then an extremely difficult move to get into another hard chimney.  Michael was taking a while to figure this out and I was starting to get pretty cold.  It didn’t help to have blood all over my face either.  When Michael tried one way and couldn’t make it work, he tried traversing over a mossy, snowy slab.  That didn’t work either.  At this point he was forced to make an aid move with a sling and a nut.  At this point, my instincts were telling me to call it quits.  Eventually, Michael asked me what I thought and I frankly replied, “I think we should turn back”.  We did.  It was definitely the right thing to do for it also had started to snow quite hard as well and as we rappelled, it snowed even harder.  We backed off some and were able to see most of the rest of the route – it looked hard, if not harder, the rest of the way up.  1000 feet below in the snow bowl, we were faced with the tedious climb back up to our camp.  We were reassured again as the snow and wind picked up.  Up on the ridge, we noted spindrift avalanches pouring off of Argonaut’s north face.  We got back to camp and had a little more food, packed up, caught a second wind and headed out.  The climb back up to the Dragontail col wasn’t bad at all…we even spotted a white ferret on the way up!  He popped out to see if it were really spring yet.  No, not yet, back in the hole!

We had a great glissade back down to the lake.  Well not quite to the lake.  The last 100 feet consisted of some serious postholes in the late afternoon melting snow.  I got lodged pretty good at one point and had to dig my boot out.  I felt pretty good though beginning the climb back down Mountaineer Creek.  The hike down, however, sapped my energy as we postholed and slipped our way down.  Finally, at the creek, we shared a stupendous ham sandwich.  With that jolt of food, we marched really fast back to the car…record time according to Michael.

Well, there was no summit for us this weekend.  But there was 8100 feet of elevation…I guess that’s good!  No, this was a great trip…a lot of fun and some great experience!  Thanks for the suggestion, Michael!