Team Mango

volcano #2 - baker's north ridge

last weekend, i climbed washington’s 4th highest peak, mount baker (10,775’), joined by fellow mountaineers tom, bari and jon on the “classic” north ridge route — an ice climbing route. this was my “graduation climb” for the intermediate climbing class, which i have been working to complete for the past seven years.

tom lewis, the intermediate administration chair, knew i needed only one more climb to graduate, so he contacted me early on to sign me up for the climb — as well as two other intermediate students in need.

arranging carpools before the climb, i discovered that bari lived on my same street… in the same block! AND… coincidentally, bari happened to have hit our dog, louise, with her car about two and a half years ago! granted, it was louise’s own fault (she had darted across the street after another dog), and bari still felt bad about the whole thing, but it made for such a great story that it didn’t stop me and the other guys from giving her shit about it during the climb. (sorry bari!).

we all eventually piled into tom’s car, drove to the town of glacier, and registered with the ranger, where we met alasdair, an AAI guide who was taking two clients up the same route. he gave us some beta about the route. we hit the trail around 10:00a. luckily, everyone wanted to take a fairly casual pace, so we all stuck together up heliotrope ridge under clear, sunny skies. we stopped to pump water near some campsites at 5,500’ before stepping onto the coleman glacier.

traversing northeast up the coleman, we reached a smooth snow bowl at about 6,400’, where we dropped our packs. while setting up camp, we spied two climbers ascending high on the glacier towards the coleman headwall — apparently heading to a higher camp. we watched them run into dead ends among the crevasses several times and then have to backtrack and try alternate routes, but they eventually found a way through. all the while, we did a visual assessment of the lower coleman. with time to spare before dinner, we geared up and scouted out our selected low route. we weaved through some large crevasses, but generally found a clear, direct route traversing low, then straight up to the start of the climbing route at the toe of the north ridge. we turned around after 90 minutes of scouting and backtracked to camp for a short nap, then dinner.

given the definite route we had scouted, and our own boot tracks in the snow to follow, we decided to start in the dark at 3:00a, so we could be on the climbing route at dawn. we hit the sack around 8:00p, but when the 2:15a alarms went off, each of us reported that we didn’t sleep very well all night. i think i managed to get maybe 3 solid hours of sleep.

but we each sprang to life, heated water for coffee/tea, geared up, and were plodding across the crusty snow at 3:10a. alasdair and his team had gotten a slightly earlier start, walking through our camp as we geared up, and used our boot tracks from saturday afternoon to guide his clients across the coleman (we’ll send a bill to AAI for the guiding assistance). we followed the boot tracks, as well as their headlamps, eventually passing them just before reaching the toe of the north ridge.

from here, we curved up and around the toe onto the base of the roosevelt glacier, which started to get steeper. dawn twilight was just beginning as we hit our first snag. jon followed some old boot tracks into a corner near some seracs which seemed to be a dead end. by now, alasdair had caught up to us again, and took an alternate path further up to a short section of vertical ice. he took his team up the ice, and tom and bari followed suit, only to find a 30’ high overhanging ice wall blocking the way. jon and i poked around and found a promising way across a snowbridge and up onto the north ridge. alasdair and his team were first to get there and got through, so we again followed.

although it was a long, often gruelling day of climbing, we couldn’t have asked for better weather or better ice conditions. it was a truly memorable trip.

hopefully i’ll have time to post a more detailed trip report, but trip leader tom lewis has posted one HERE. also, you can view my photos HERE.

so, after having climbed adams three times in the past few years, it looks as if i’m destined to climb the rest of washington’s volcanoes in alphabetical order. baker last weekend, then glacier, rainier and finally lowly mount st. helens.

white slabs - snow creek wall

a few weeks ago, suzy diesen was going to lead a climb of mount thompson, which i had attempted the week prior. i signed up, only to be thwarted by the weather again. so last week, the four of us on the climb regrouped and talked about climbing the beckey route on liberty bell. the weather was looking very cold with possible snow, so on john mackey’s suggestion, we opted for the more pleasant weather of icicle canyon near leavenworth. forecasts were called for partly cloudy and 60’s. chris kirsten, who was in our original group, had to bow out of the climb, but we picked up yves arrouye at the last minute.

unfortunately, because of schedules and logistics, we weren’t able to carpool to the climb, so we drove four gas guzzlers to leavenworth. suzy, john and i arrived at different times, but all camped at eightmile campground. i woke up at 6:00a and quickly found john walking past my campsite. he discovered that morning that he had forgotten to pack his helmet, possibly jeapordizing his chances of joining us on the climb.

the three of us convened at the snow creek trailhead. we went through our options for the helmet predicament. climbing with an odd number would be inconvenient but do-able. so, while we were still waiting for yves to show up, john drove into town to check out when the climbing shop would open. we returned shortly and said it would open at 9:00a. so we devised a plan where the three of us would start up the trail with both rope and both racks, and john would wait in town for the shop to open, buy a helmet, then zip back to the trailhead and sprint up the route with his light pack. no prob.

suzy, yves and i left the trailhead about 7:15a. we weren’t in a huge rush, so we took our time, doddling up the trail, and stopping every so often to scope out the route whenever snow creek wall came into view. we found the climber’s trail about 2 miles in. shortly after fording snow creek via a slippery log crossing, we entered into a boulder field. there were a few cairns to follow, but we lost sight of those and continued navigating on our own. it turned into a bit of a bushwack, but it was still fairly tame. halfway up the boulder field, john radioed us to say he got a new helmet and was heading up the trail.

at the base of the climb, we geared up, still taking our sweet time while waiting for john to arrive. suzy and yves paired up on one rope and would start the climb first, and i would pair up with john when he arrived and follow them. indeed, john did fly up the trail in no time at all, aided by the fact that he was able to stay on the real climber’s trail and avoid the bushwacking.

yves led pitch #1, which started as a 4th class scramble, then transitioned to a short 5.0 section up to a scraggly tree anchor. i led this pitch following those two. by the time i reached the tree, suzy was leading pitch #2 — a sustained 5.7 — and complaining loudly about some water that was trickling down the rock, making for slippery climbing. because of this, she placed copius pro along the way. i belayed john up and he, yves and i crowded at the belay station. as she was reaching the top of #2, suzy started yelling “ROCK! ROCK! ROCK!” from above. the three of us saw something hurtling down towards us, so we all ducked as it went sailing past. suzy yelled “shit, i just lost my radio”. i looked down to spot the radio still careening down the rock face. i followed it with my eyes and managed to spot its final resting place. we guessed that it was toast, but i made a note of its location so we could at least check it out when we got back down.

suzy belayed yves up pitch #2, and john led up immediately after him. the section of wet rock was enough to keep john from catching up to yves at the next belay station. eventually it was my turn to follow, and face the slippery rock. the water occured at the crux of #2, and upon arriving at yet another crowded belay station, i exclaimed to john how glad i was that he had to lead that one.

pitch #3 was more sustained 5.7 climbing, starting with a lieback dihedral, then an unprotectable ramp, then another dihedral. many of the moves involved slabs which were highly polished and not very grippy. yves led #3, followed by suzy, then i led. at the crux of this pitch, where the first dihedral transitioned to ramp, i couldn’t find any place for pro. instead of hanging out and getting psyched out, i ended up getting through the crux, then running the rope out about 25’ before placeing the next piece. also, suzy — now on pitch #4 — managed to dislodge a couple rocks above us, and we all yelled “ROCK!” repeatedly to john below us. john radioed up to us “what the hell was that?!”, to which i responded dryly, “a rock”. john reported hearing the softball-size rock jet past his head as he ducked for cover. good thing he had that shiny new helmet!

pitch #4 was yet more sustained 5.7 climbing on more slabby dihedrals. suzy led, followed by yves, then john led, followed by me. the crux of this pitch — and i would argue of the whole climb — happened right at the top. again, i thanked john for leading this pitch, as the last move was a slightly overhanging, off-balance crack involving a foot-jamb, some slippery slabs, and some rounded handholds above. after trying to figure it out for a couple minutes, i finally found a small lip for my foot that enable me to step up far enough to find a decent handhold, and voila, we were all at the top…

…of the route anyway. the route ends at the “country club ramp” which runs across the face of snow creek wall. earlier in the day, we had talked about following the “white slabs” route with a climb of “umbrella tree” — a 2-pitch 5.7 route that would take us to the top of the wall. but as it was now 4:30p, we were running out of daylight and decided to rappel back down the climbing route. one single rope rappel, and two *full* double rope rappels got us to the base of the climb.

we packed up, and headed out. i directed suzy to her fallen radio. we found one battery on the way, then the body of the radio, still looking in good shape, but missing the other two batteries and the plastic battery compartment cover.

we all found the climbers trail on the way out which made our exit much more enjoyable then our entry, and we were back to the trailhead just as it was getting dark at 6:30p.

all in all, an excellent climb given the level of challenge and the wonderful weather. on route, there were numerous small problems that with a little thought and perserverance, we all managed to figure out and overcome. for more photos of the climb, click here.

thanks to suzy for leading this climb and helping me get one step closer to graduation! only one ice climb to go…

UPDATE: suzy reported that with a little duct tape in place of the battery cover, her radio, which fell probably 150 feet, is working fine!

Talus Fields of Mt. Adams

Mt. Adams (12,276’, 3742m)

After looking forward to climbing Mr. Adams for weeks I can say that the two best moments of the trip occured when we got inside the tent on Saturday night, and when we finally arrived at the car on Sunday afternoon.

Neither Susana nor I had ever been to Mt. Adams and I thought a late-season summit attempt would be fun before the snow closed the road for 8 months. The trail for the South Spur route of Mt. Adams starts at 5600’, directly south of the peak. It was surprisingly cold when we got out of the car, and snow flurries began five minutes into the hike, building to serious snowfall. The ground remained dry until the timber line, after which point we lost sight of the route and realized, in the middle of a wonderful talus field where the ridge was and had to climb 500’ up the side through snow-covered crap-rock and ash. Once we were back on the proper ridge, the route-finding was much easier, but the visibility was poor and the strong west wind made you want to look east when the gusts would kick up. Fortunately once on the ridge it’s easy to stay on-route on the ascent even with little visibility. The clouds began to break for a half-hour as we reached our destination, giving us views of the warm valley below and the false peak above. Except for some intentional detours over to the parallel snow fields for easier hiking, it was a fairly consistent slog up to the Lunch Counter, a flat shoulder that would serve for our overnight camp at 9400’ (2865m). Or at least we think it was the Lunch Counter.

We set up camp in one of the pre-built slabs with a rock wall giving partial shelter to the wind. Our 4-season tent that was ordered weeks ago still hadn’t arrived, so this would be one last interesting night in the Sierra Designs circus tent. I set as many guy-lines as I could to help it hold shape in the wind while we waited for the stove to melt some snow so we could warm up. And we waited. I haven’t done a lot of high-elevation camping and most places this high in Washington would put you at the summit (there are only 6 other mountains in Washington higher than the Lunch Counter). So I was a little bit concerned at the time it was taking to turn our snow into a rolling boil, specifically for the amount of fuel that we brought. Finally we had some hot tea and freeze-dried love.

Susana and I were both a little too tired and cold to talk, but the wind whipping the tent kept us from crashing out early. They say that with every thousand feet the temperature drops 3 degrees. I had always thought there were few places in the Cascades where this would matter much — the temperature might drop a few degrees during the course of a day hike as you climbed up. But if the town of Hood River near sea level down below was 40 degrees Saturday night, that put us at around 12 (-11C). I wasn’t expecting temperatures this cold, but fortunately we were prepared with parkas and extra clothing. Still, the whipping of the tent walls with the fierce wind prevented us from getting much sleep.

Sunday

Sunday morning began as I poked my head out of the sleeping bag at 7am to realize that the wind had died down, but unfortunately the visibility was even worse. It was a no-brainer that this would be our turn-around point, so we were in no hurry to get out of our warm sleeping bags. But eventually we got up with some hot granola, thawed our frozen water bottles and packed up to begin our descent. I thought it would be easier if we got some use from our crampons and descended the west edge of the benign Crescent Glacier. Somehow we got off-course and realized much lower, as the glacier became wider than we had realized, that we could actually be on the crevassed Mazama Glacier. Fortunately we had stayed along the edge and on clear ice, and more importantly, avoided falling into a crevasse. We backtracked up the rock wasting much time and skirted around the top of the Crescent Glacier, back to the ridge, this time sure we were on the east side of the Cresent Glacier. The visibility was so poor that it was difficult to keep on the ridge with all the buttresses and minor ridges coming out of it. After descending for awhile and sensing we were off course, we would look to the east or west and determine it was that ridge at the edge of our visibility that was the proper ridge, and would skirt latterly to it over snow-covered talus. When we got to what we thought was the proper ridge, we’d realize that it was the next ridge that was the main ridge, again owing to the poor visibility. This continued several more times as we made our way down. Not much fun was had by all.

As we got closer to the car the snowfall was unrelenting and I was concerned that the road would be snowy on the way out. The guidebook warns that if your car gets snowed-in late in the season, it can potentially stay there all winter until the road thaws out. But the snow at the trailhead was light and we’ll have our car for another winter, until we can attempt Mt. Adams in clearer weather and packed snow next summer.

We took SR23 to Randal on the way back, which is a dirt road in places, for a beautiful, scenic shortcut. Dinner in Morton. On the couch by 8.

See more photos of the marvelous weekend.

observation rock - september 18, 2005

sunday i climbed observation rock (8,364’) — a lump of pumice on the north flank of mt. rainier. i have three required climbs left to complete the intermediate climbing class, and this intermediate ice climb was to count as one of those. [i didn’t feel like embedding the photos in this entry, but you can see them here.]

our team consisted of our leader, steve mckim (who led my mount thompson climb two weeks previously), and seven intermediate students — frank, paul, jonathan, chris, steve t., rich, and me. paul, jonathan and i drove up together saturday night, and the whole team camped at the trailhead.

we hit the trail at 5:15a, dropping down a few hundred feet over two miles before turning uphill to spray park, a beautiful meadow with a spectacular view of the big dog (rainier) and our objective, observation rock. contrary to my attempt on mt. thompson two weeks ago, i felt like a million bucks hiking the approach. i was amazed at what one measely week of training did to improve my endurance.

shortly after arriving in spray park, we met a couple coming down the trail. at first i thought, “man, they REALLY had to get up early to have gotten up this high and heading back already”. but it turns out they had hiked up the day before and somehow gotten lost, so they spent the night on the mountain. both of them were wearing sneakers, cotton jeans, and cotton hooded sweatshirts. they also were carrying nothing except an army-style canteen, which they informed us was empty. we offered them a full liter of water to take with them for the 3 mile hike back out, but they refused (although the woman took a small sip). it also turns out that the man had proposed to the woman the previous night. instead of congratulations, we hit him with comments like “so, was that something you did when you thought you might not make it through the night?”.

anyway, we continued on, exiting the main trail for a climbers trail that went up to a small ridge that curved around to the southeast. it soon turned to scree, and as the sun hadn’t hit the trail yet, many of the rocks still had a thin layer of frost, so we had to take great care with our footing. chris found one of the slippery rocks and took a hard fall, banging his hip on a rock. he was sore but carried on.

we reached the base of the climb at 9:30a, geared up, roped up, and pondered the 400 vertical feet of snow and ice in front of us. i paired up with frank, for whom this climb would be his graduation climb for the intermediate class. i was first to lead up the bottom portion of the climb, which started out at a relatively low angle, while the other 3 pairs climbed up parallel to us. the route had a hard crust of snow and we could have easily climbed it unprotected, but i placed some pro just for the practice. i placed one picket first and we started a running belay (frank would climb simultaneously with me). further up, i dug down and found some decent ice below about 4 inches of snow, so i managed to place 3 screws as i continued up. i reached a noticeable steepening of the route, so i stopped to set up a belay anchor and belayed frank up to my position.

frank took a breather, then continued on for the next pitch. although it was steeper, there was still the crust of snow that made it easy climbing, but likewise, frank placed a screw about every 15 meters. frank got to within about 30 meters of the top of the route when we ran out of rope, so he set up a belay anchor. i cleaned my anchor and frank belayed me up to him.

normally, i would lead the next pitch so frank and i wouldn’t have to swap positions at the belay anchor, but i offered to let frank lead the final pitch since this was his graduation climb. he didn’t want to bother switching positions, so i led. the slope was at its steepest at the very top — maybe 60 degrees. i placed one screw, then was up and over the lip at the top. i ran it out about 10 meters and set up an anchor. there was still good ice below the snow at the top, so i placed two screws and belayed frank up at 12:30p.

being first up allowed frank and me about an hour to rest and eat some snacks in the sun while the other 3 teams made their way up. we broke down our anchors and packed up our gear for the final scramble to the summit. it was about 400 feet up a slope of loose pumice, which wasn’t too enjoyable. but we made it nonetheless, and all of us hung out on the summit for about an hour enjoying the views, eating lunch and conversing. somehow we got on the subject of the enumclaw horse farm incident and, being a group of 8 men, the conversation quickly “went downhill” from there, so we decided to take that cue to head down at 2:30p.

we exited via the south ridge of observation rock, then down the scramble route, which curved around to the east, then north, across the flett glacier. we met back up with the route we had taken on the approach, back through the nasty scree (sans frost this time), and back down the wonderland trail. About 2 miles before we reached the cars, I got stung by a bee on my right hand — luckily my only injury for the weekend! We reached the cars by 6:00p.

Overall, I have to label this climb a complete success. Physically I felt great, the weather was perfect, the views spectacular, and aside from the bee sting, no injuries to report — not even the usual blisters.

yet another foiled mango base camp attempt

in my continuing efforts to complete the requirements for the intermediate climbing class, i signed up to climb the west ridge of mt. thompson this past weekend. the trip was orginally schedule for saturday/sunday, but because the weather forecast called for rain on both of those days and clear skies on monday, we made a last minute decision to take advantage of the labor day holiday and the improving forecast for monday, and switched the climb to sunday/monday.

the plan was to hike 8 miles up the pacific crest trail (PCT) to ridge lake, then leave the trail and go up over bumblebee pass and down into the basin just south of mt. thompson to camp for the night. on monday, we would then climb up a gully to the west ridge of mt. thompson, begin the climb from there to the summit, and then rappel down the east ridge back to base camp and hike out that night.

sunday morning, i carpooled up to snoqualmie pass with stuart robertson (a bloak from scotland), and colt de wolf (from america) — both second year intermediate students. we pulled up to the trailhead at 10:30a and met up with the rest of our team — jordan and steve (last names unknown) and our leader, steve mckim. we were all rarin’ to go, so we hit the trail right away. the skies were cloudy with a few sucker-holes, but it didn’t look like it was going to burn off any time that day.

about 30 minutes into the approach, i got stung by a bee on the side of my left knee. perfect. i then had a shooting pain up the side of my left leg for the rest of the day. about 4 miles in, we stopped for a lunch break. while eating, a woman came back down the trail asking if any of us had a first aid kit. we asked what was wrong and she said her husband had a blister and needed some moleskin (the bottom part of the trial, by the way, was completely clogged with unequipped day-hikers).

moving on, we passed the infamous “kendall catwalk” — a section of trail that passes under kendall peak and has a precipitous drop to one side. we joked about its reputation for being scary since, although it does have a nasty drop to one side, the trail is about 10 feet wide and it completely flat. you could almost drive a car down the catwalk.

by 3:30p, we reached ridge lake. the clouds were looking heavier, so we made a group decision to camp here and see what the weather did during the night, then make a go/no go decision in the morning. we hiked around to the far side of the lake and found plentiful campsites. jordan and i set up our bivy sacks and the other guys had tents. it had started to sprinkle, so we found a group of trees under which to set up our kitchen and cooked our meals. by the end of dinner, it was raining pretty hard. i was a bit wiped out after the hike in, so i ran and jumped in my bivy sack at about 6:00p.

i woke up a few times throughout the evening to hear the rain pounding our campsite. i had my bivy sack completely closed up except for one tiny hole for air. at the corner of the velcro closure, though, the rain was leaking in and sending a trickle down the side of my bag. i fiddled with it for a while, but no luck. at midnight, the rain had let up a bit, but the winds started up. and at 2:00a, all was quiet and the stars were out.

steve m. woke us all up at 4:00a (when we had planned to start our climb) to tell us that we were going to call off the climb. there was just too much rain during the night, and since the climb was on the west ridge, it would see any sunlight until the afternoon and would be wet for most of the day. we all gladly went back to sleep.

we all roused around 8:00a and began talking about hot coffee (those guys did anyway) and pancakes. we packed up and headed back down the trail.

just beyond the kendall catwalk, a couple guys decided to look for a shortcut that went staight down an avalanche debris field and would cut a couple miles off the hike. my immediate reaction was “uh, do we have time for shortcuts?”. but of course, since we all had the time in the world, they decided to go for it (while i mildly protested). the first part went over a boulder field, but later we found ourselves in thick brush. the brush itself wouldn’t have been so bad had the plants not been loaded up with raindrops from the previous night. within about 10 minutes, we were all completely soaked. i was swimming in my boots. by the bottom of the debris field, the brush was so thick i couldn’t see anything i was stepping on and fell several times on slimy, wet branches of ferns and blueberry bushes. we found the trail in about 30 minutes (probably about the same amount of time it would have taken to walk the long way on the trail). i was thinking “that was the stupidest fucking idea!”, but i was too wet and too pissed to say anything and sloshed down the remainder of the trail.

we got back to the cars by 11:30a, then made a bee-line for the pancake house at snoqualmie pass. a giant plate of chorizo con huevos and a tall glass of OJ lifted my spirits and we spent the rest of the morning discussing our stupid president over breakfast.

i’m scheduled to do the same climb again this coming weekend as a day climb, but the weather is looking even worse right now…

Sahale Peak; September 27, 2003

On Saturday an expedition made up of Jason, Erik, John T and John M climbed Sahale Peak. We approached the climb through Boston Basin, reached the summit via the Quien Sabe Glacier and descended via the Sahale Glacier, Sahale Arm and Cascade Pass. It was a beautiful fall day in one of the most scenic parts of the Northwest. It was also a very long day and all of us were left with sore feet.

A view of the impressive North face of Johannesberg Mountain, located on the opposite side of the valley. We’re climbing it next.

The crux crevasse crossing; Erik, what happened to Jason and John?

Oh. I guess there really is a way to get across.

The summit shots….Erik….

….Jason (on the summit, mind you)….

…John T…

…and last but not least, climb leader of the year John Methot! As usual, highly stoned on the summit.

For more photos, check out John M’s website:

http://www.methot.net/photos/2003_09_sahale/index.htm

John on Mt Robson, 10 months late

Note the stylish yet functional rose-tinted Rudy Project sunglasses.

My Foot in Canada

Mt. Dickerman (5723')

Here’s the powerpoint version of our Saturday.

Mt. Dickerman (aka ‘Little Dick’) 5723’

Mangos present:

• Angus Tamale


• Moss Lightfoot


• Sardinha Flor


• Milkshake Mantra (as has been put forth by the naming committee)

Key Objectives & Measures of Success:

• Observe vew from Top


• Spritual Growth


• Exercise/Appetite-building

Summary:

• Left the trailhead (2100’) at 9am with Baring Mountain looking over our
  shoulder from across the valley.


• Ran into mashed potato snow around 4400’.


• Applied sunscreen.


• Reached the summit (rejoiced).


• Found rocky upcropping on the east summit, enjoyed icey nalgene-laced
  tequila sunrises and excellent cheese spread.


• Retraced steps.


• Those w/o gaiters noted cold feet.


• Observed twofold increase in stream throughput from morning crossing.


• Mass consumption of milkshakes and greasy food.

Detractions:

• Man on peak on cell phone


• Verify footing before yellowing snow on steeper slopes

Pilchuck

Who: Kim, Erik, Susana, Scott

We got a late start after a good long breakfast and left Ballard hopeful in the breaking clouds and sunshine. We arrived at the trailhead in nasty cold rain and snow on the ground. We hiked the last 1/2 mile of the road to the trailhead through sloppy snow and mush since the Honda couldn’t make it up the last little stretch of increasing snow on the road.

We only saw three other parties on the mountain throughout the day and played leapfrog with some young eastside snowboarders. 1/3 of the way into the hike the rain turned to drier snowfall and we put on the snowshoes as the powder increased and more or less broke out of the trees. Past the prominent sharkfin rock, Sardinha (Susana’s working-mango-title (sardine)) started running out of steam so I helped her with the rest step and other techniques in efficiency. Kim and Erik led the way up the remaining beautiful winter-wonderland landscape and we made it to the fire lookout in moderate winds and low visibility. We ate snacks, congratulated Sardinha on her first summit, Kim cleaned house, and we plunge-stepped our way down the mountain, even more beautiful on the way down.

Stopped in Granite Falls for much Mexican food.

Looking forward to the next Mango outing..

Postholing to Dragontail

Quick facts

---

Elevation: 8840’
Deepest posthole: 7’
Celebrity sightings: 1

The extra six mile roadclimb scared me away from Mt. Adams this weekend so I decided to go to Dragontail instead, where I found a trailhead completely vacant of snow.

Started out on the trail on Saturday at 2pm.

A couple miles from the trailhead I came upon two hikers who were going at a snail’s pace. One was an elderly man who evidently had a lot of determination. As I came up on them I noticed two ice tools strapped to his pack. Indeed, he must have a hell of a lot of determination. The younger guy saw me and let me pass. The older man was unaware and after hiking behind him slowly for a minute, I said “Mind if I squeeze by you?” and just as I thought he was moving aside to let me by, we had a small collision. I apologized and headed on.

The snow started piling up the higher I got through the forest. Here’s the first stupid thing I did. I was crossing an area with a lot of downed trees and boulders creating a lot of gaps in the snow. One area looked particularly sketchy.. a posthole was made by someone else earlier and it was going to be hard not to repeat it. Preparing myself to sink in a little bit I took a step, slipped and before I knew it, by entire body fell through between the tree and a boulder into a small “cave”. About a foot above my head there was the opening that my body and pack had made. All around me there were massive icicles. I could move freely, at least. I checked myself out. Some cuts on my eblow, those would heal—more importantly I didn’t rip my new scholar pants. And I was covered in an overwhelming fresh pine scent. Threw my backpack over my head and crawled out.

Reached Colchuck Lake at 5pm and talked with some backpackers who had just hung out for the day at the frozen lake.

Around the lake I started the ascent to Aasgard pass at 7pm. I figured I’d have 1-2 hours of daylight left to reach the pass. My alternative was to hang out and try it tomorrow, but I’d just be bored down by the lake for the rest of the evening. I figured now that I was out of the trees the snow would be much better. That was a mistake.. the snow was worse, sinking a full leg every few steps. I found it was easier to break new trail than use someone elses deteriorated tracks.

Kept looking at my altimeter, thinking at 6000’ feet that I had a full 1000’ left to climb. That was going to be tough given how tired I already was. Then looking at the map at 6800’ and realizing that the pass was actually at 7800’. Oops. Another 1000’ to climb. That’s when I started looking for a place to bivy on every rock outcropping I’d see. From the underside these boulders with their smooth faces looked like they’d be completely flat on top, but as I’d reach them I’d be disappointed to see their 40 degree angle of snow on top.

This was grueling work. I’d kick five quick steps and then rest for 20 seconds. I found this easier than a slow constant pace.

Every now and then I’d see what I thought to be cougar tracks, adding the thought of a wild animal attack into the mix. What was a cougar doing up here? Thinking of the Snows of Kilimanjaro. Taking five more steps.

Thinking of Tom Waits songs, thinking of all the money I’d have after I sell all of my climbing gear, (since this would be the last time I’d EVER go climbing in my life. But remembering that during my bicycle touring days, wanting to throw my bike off a cliff at least at one point every day). But thinking mostly of the story I was going to tell after completing this thing.

Five more steps.

Why did I decide to come up this so late? Why did I decide I had to bring my full pack up to the peak? What makes the snow this crappy? Why does every Seinfeld spinoff sink like the titanic?

Five more steps.

With the pass in sight a couple hundred feet away, near exhaustion, I postholed my whole leg yet again, only able to whisper the whimpiest yet most sincere “dammit” I’ve ever uttered.

Due to high elevation, clear skies, and a treeless, snow-filled landscape, I was fortunate I could still make out the subtle texture of the snow in the dim nighttime sky as I arrived atop the pass at 9:55pm. There was a large depression on the other side that my headlamp couldn’t reach, so I decided to bivy right there on the pass, behind two small boulders.

As I was stomping out my sleeping area I could still post-hole my entire leg right down into the middle of my bed. I could only imagine what the ground under me looked like without snow. I was a little bit concerned that the shifting of snow below me would cause my head and upper body to fall into an unknown hole beneath me as I slept, the sleeping bag not allowing me to break free. I fashioned my ski poles perpindicular under my thermarest to prevent this from happening. Yes, I am this paranoid.

Fired up the stove, melted snow, ate Tasty Bite. Eventually fell asleep to the full moon shining down on Dragontooth on a windless night.

SUNDAY

Woke late to overcast and low visibility which didn’t hurry me out into the cold. I packed up and headed off to the peak at 11am. Up another steep 1000’ snow wall to the start of the ridge that makes up Dragontail. The morning snow wasn’t any better than yesterday’s evening snow until I reached the top of the ridge and it became very rubbery, almost elastic. Once on the ridge I could spot Colchuck Mtn. The rest of the way up to Dragontail is a class 2 scramble. I used ski poles most of the way and didn’t have to use crampons. Made the top at 1pm. The summit isn’t very big but quite fierce looking. I can see how it got its name.

I was on the peak for a few minutes when another cilmber made his way up, the only one I’d seen on route the whole day. He introduced himself as Rick and I recognized him from the trail with the elderly man. We chatted and thought about traversing over to Colchuck until the clouds suddenly got much lower and reduced visibility to 100 feet. That pretty much called it off. We talked on the way back to Aasgard Pass until Rick was too far ahead of me, traveling like a mountain goat over the icy rock.

Over lunch on some rocks at the pass we chatted some more. He had hoped to be climbing today but the weather wasn’t really providing much hope, and we’d both heard plenty of rocks and snow breaking free during the night. “Plus Fred’s a little worn out.. it’s tough on an 80 year old.” He said his friend, Fred, had done several routes on Dragontail before.

“Is Fred’s last name Beckey, by any chance?”

“Yep, that’s him.”

“Ah, I think I ran into him on the trail.”

I glissaded down Aasgard at about the same rate as Rick was plunge stepping (he was fast) and I sat on another boulder in the sun taking in the scene one last time. Rick headed over to the cliff wall where Fred was waiting. I could see Fred talking and pointing up at the cliffs quite a bit. I was ready for dry clothes so I busted around Colchuck and postholed it down the trail back to the car. 5pm. Ate greasy food in Leavenworth. Ahhh.