This climb has been brought to you by:
- That annoying-ass 1972 hit ” Summer Breeze” (thanks a bunch for getting that stuck in my head, Cory)
- Frank Zappa and all that he accomplished, as explained by Cory during the hike in _and_ out.

Executive Summary:
Just to keep you on the edge of your seats, allow me to create a bit of a literary ‘open-loop’.

like an amputated limb, my *former* rope waves in the wind somewhere in Canada

Oh yes…we littered our manky gear on Canada.

The Plan
Cory and Nick planned on firing off the whole enchainment in a day Friday. We’d leave Thursday night and rally all the way through Friday to hopefully get out Friday night or Saturday morning. I’d have to say this was an ambitious plan, considering we had 4 schedules to juggle and some weather to deal with Friday. It ended up falling through to a more relaxed plan when Mike ended up having to work late. Since we didn’t want to simul the whole thing with three, Nick bailed and will reschedule. Cory and I proceeded to plan on hiking in lazily Friday and climbing all day Saturday. This turned out in our favor since every mountain in the range was under thick cloud cover all Friday and clear Saturday/Sunday. I was excited about the plan because I thought it was reasonable in time and difficulty, plus Cory made good use of overlay lightning bolts for the ascent routes in their powerpoint in class. The plan was hatched and the time was right. I was on-board.

I walked downstairs late Thursday night and selected the rope I decided to use. My new-ish Mammut 9.2mm single 60m. I looked at that little sticker on the end of the rope and wondered how a 9.2 could really be a ‘single’.

Just before the Slesse (South side) parking lot, there is a fish hatchery on Chilliwack Lake Road. You walk in there and look for the guy with the mullet. And when I say “mullet”, let me not understate how glorious this plumage really was. This guy had the most badass buttrock hairstyle, yet he was the nicest guy you’d ever meet. After signing a name and address onto a checkout sheet, we had a small key attached to the butt of a pool cue.

Before we left the car, Cory made a point of scribbling “we love canada” in the dirt on his back windshield. What a goof. Minutes after our leisurely 10:00AM start out from the cars, we ran into a couple just returning from Rexford. I asked them for beta on conditions. They said it was great except for one unusual circumstance. There was a yellowjacket nest about 3 feet from the trail just up the hill. Between the two of them, they’d been stung about 8 times. How nice. Cory and I got exact beta on the location of the very pissed off little bastards and proceeded up the trail. We went into super secret stealth ninja mode, but it suddenly became too late.

Bill: “Cory do you hear that dull hum? It sounds like the drone of a swarm.”
Cory(up ahead): “…What? What do you mea…”
Bill: “RUN!!!”

We were fucked. It was too late. By the time he started running (and I mean SPRINTING), the swarm was en-route with stingers out. I ran too, but it put me directly in the war path. The final tally: 4 stings for me and one for Cory. Not bad. We sat at a creek just ahead of all of this, sweating, wheezing, filling up our water bottles, and laughing about the silly start to our adventure.

Damn yellowjackets! Quick, someone call the waaaaambulance.

This creek just after the clearcut was the last water, we were told. We tanked up and headed up along a high foggy alpine forest using a massive granite wall for a handrail. I’m talking ‘bigger than Index’ huge. We snapped a couple pics and after we were done with all the granite porn, found ourselves in a large basin of granite boulders which held up the Spires, Rexford, and the surrounding peaks. We set up shop around 5:00PM in the trees at the tip top of a ridge with a sunset view of the North side of Slesse and Baker. That view Couldn’t Be Beaten With a Stick ™.

View from camp: (left to right) North and South Nesawkwatch Spires, Rexford -wearing a hat for us

We talked a bit of trash, I learned a bit about Frank Zappa, and quizzed Cory on his timeline plans for Saturday. He did a real good job of taking many factors into consideration in order to lay out a very conservative and detailed plan for starting, tagging each peak, and descending. We leveled out on a 5:00AM start with the sunrise and a couple hours per peak. We’d be back at camp just before sunset around 8:00pm if we slowed down. We went to sleep with the sun Friday night and woke up with it Saturday morning, to a clearing sky full of fading stars.

It was 30 minutes across the basin to the base of the North spire, and we roped up at the bottom. Cory started out simul climbing. He took a meandering route across the lower 5th class terrain. Both of us were in approach shoes and I was impressed not only at my stylish new kicks, but Cory was pulling through exposed 5.7 moves with a pair of Exum Ridges. It took him a bit longer than I’d expect to simul the first long section, and I led a airy 5.6-ish pitch to the summit. We were about 40 minutes behind schedule. The sun was rising and the clouds were being held down all around us.

The beta indicated easy terrain from this summit all the way across to the 5th class pitches up the South Spire. We packed the rope up and hauled ass across the entire ridge, ending partway up (what the beta said were) the first roped pitches. Cory was quick getting across the 4th and even lower 5th terrain soloing.

Looking back across the ridge toward the North spire, Cory runs along the easier terrain. This saved us a lot of time!

The South Nesawkwatch Spire
We roped up at the base of uncertain terrain. We didn’t know where we were. Cory took off the jacket, racked up, and headed off into the sunlight around the left side of the ridge. Little did I know, he was sewing up a stunning 30-foot mini version of calculus crack in a left-facing corner. It was exposed and airy, definitely pushing his limits, and an awesome lead in approach shoes! Impressed, I grunted and pulled myself up the killer hand jams as the crack went from #1 to #3 in about 30 feet.

Bill (climbing): “Grrrr, arggggg” *wheeze*
Cory (belaying up top): “Summer breeze, makes me feel fine…”
Bill: “Gah! Shut up!”

That song was once again ringing in my ears. Cory used three well-placed pieces – Camalots 1 through 3. I rate this pitch “alpine awesome”. One more pitch of 5.7 and we were staring at this summit block with an interesting offwidth.

ah ah aaaahhh! no you don't!

We took the Mark Twight approach and figured our summit was good enough, so we continued on. We were ahead of schedule now that we knocked the South Spire out so quickly. I looked down at the little sticker on the end of the rope. It was wrinkled and slid down a bit, like it was recently caught on something. I didn’t think anything of it and jogged down the 4th class terrain to the first rap station I saw going toward Rexford.

When we walked up to the rap station, I noticed there was a section of climbing rope used alongside all the other tat. The rope was badly damaged. I didn’t think anything of it.

From the summit of the South spire, I located a rap station.

The rap station was in a pinch point between two large blocks. There was a damaged section of rope in there somewhere.

Cory started to rappel and found ANOTHER rap station about 15 feet down from this one, just out of sight.

WTF?

I asked where it was going and what it looked like. He noted it looked good and it was going right where we needed it to go. But wait, this is “an easy 30m rap” according to the beta. Why the hell would there be another station there?? By now, I was becoming suspicious.

He was down and off rappel and I started backing down the sharp low-angled granite on rappel. Indeed, the rap station was clean and had rings. It went over a mellow edge and free fell to the base – a totally cleaner rap route with way less risk.

I took one last look up at the rope going through the rings, making absolutely sure it wouldn’t take a path where it would snag when pulled. I quickly completed the rap and gingerly started pulling the rope. If any of you have climbed with me, you know I have a pretty good record when pulling ropes.

Not today, folks.

sadface. I prepare to cut about 18m off my nice (stuck) rope

That little sticker screwed us and I’m sure of it! The rope was stuck and there was no way to climb up to retrieve it. As I hung my head in disgrace (for breaking my streak pulling ropes), I noticed a sweet core shot in the other half of the rope! WTF!?! I looked over at Cory and the realization that his grad climb was over washed over his face. I felt pretty bad for not putting the pieces together. Nobody brings damaged sections of rope up to reinforce rap stations! The shortened rope was guaranteed rap-anchor-antics if we continued up Rexford and we definitely couldn’t freeclimb with that coreshot. Luckily there was a complete downclimb descent route back to camp from here. We were extremely happy to have this option and not have to use (what was left of) my rope! Cory, being the lighthearted person he is, didn’t mind our plight since we’d already tackled all the fun parts. We sat down and ate lunch there and I cut the rope. *sniff* *sniff*

It would have been fun to climb Rexford, but it’s hard when:
A. Half your rope is missing
B. There’s a core shot somewhere in the remaining rope

An hour of kitty-litter downclimbing and we were back at camp.

We lounged around for an hour or so since it was only mid-day.

We found a granite dance floor at the bivy site. Cory proceeded to show his best Travolta impression on the way out. Keep it classy.

Goodbye you rope-eating granite-fest.

On the way down, we prepared for the yellowjackets again, but they were gone. They were probably pulling down like all the other Canadians we’d met.

Apparently, a large section of the pocket glacier slid on Slesse’s North side. I could tell. There were about 18 cars at the Slesse trailhead, where there was only a pull off big enough for about 6 cars max. Go get ‘em, boys.

My Pics
Cory’s Pics

Just about everything in this trip went perfectly. The underlying reason for our unbelievable stoke was the three days of solid 75-degree weather and a solid approach. To me, it tops the N. Ridge of Stuart as my favorite. This was a classic alpine experience.

The ranger station was a cluster#$@%, with the 4th of July crowd in full effect. We scored a permit for Terror Basin and headed out the door quickly. After going to the wrong campground (the *lower* Goodell camp) we located the upper camp down the road and started throwing things together. The mosquitoes were destroying us as we tried to find the start to the trail. We spent about 20 minutes just ‘schwacking around outside the parking lot when we found the real trail. A hilarious start to the climb indeed. It starts right in a campsite by a huge boulder, FYI.

On the way in, we crossed paths with two guys who had just been up there for a good portion of the last week. I’m not sure why but they climbed Inspiration and rapped the East ridge. Their rap stations ended up being nifty belay anchors. Thanks guys!

The start of the nearly vertical death march starts about 200m past the creek, which is the last place to get water. There is no cairn or rock, just a trail scratched into the hillside just waiting to try and kill you.  If you’re knocking down brush after you cross that last creek, you walked too far. After hours of sadistic hiking, we ran across our own little oasis! It was a small patch of snow at about 4,900 feet. Like an ostrich, Justin practically stuck his head in it and I found that a snowball in my hat was a pleasant cooldown tactic. Oh and the blueberries are about a month from being ripe, just so you know..

vertical root pulling, just another day in the pickets. Everyone takes a picture of this part.

We hit the stream and 5,200 feet, climbed about 400 vertical feet up that, and turned left to cross those heather benches everyone raves about. They are indeed beautiful. It made me think of Boston Basin up above the trees. The views of Triumph and Baker were rad and the snow patches were soft and simple to cross. Water was everywhere.

Without crampons, we kicked steps down to camp and met up with four others who were staying through the week to annihilate the entire range. They had just finished Macmillan and Inspiration and were headed to Degenhardt and Terror the following days.

Justin and I lamented the fact we only had 3 days here.

Justin's dead carcass after the death march to camp

..and this is the view justin's carcass would have had, provided he hadn't died on the approach.

I ate my 1,300 calorie pizza and Justin enjoyed his freeze-dried spaghetti. Oh did I mention that between the two of us we had forgot FIRE? That’s right. We packed a reactor and no lighter. Luckily the guy camping right next to us was smoking cigars all night and had a lighter to spare.  We are such rookies! The plan was to go to bed early and wake up around 4:00.  The approach didn’t mangle us too bad, but would the climbing?

A minor alarm snafu got us up at 4:30 instead and we were hiking at 5:00.  The entire way across Terror basin was 3-inch deep snow which didn’t require crampons or gaiters!  We clumsily navigated the rocky spots and big icefall, taking pictures all along the way. The sun was rising over the ridge and lighting up Inspiration and friends. The whole range was looking awesome.

The simulclimbing was completely insane.  We folded one of our half ropes in half and started up at 8:00am with Justin leading. We got off route and had to rap 20 meters or so, but were back on route quickly. Justin led the entire simul climb from the glacier to the ridge, which was pretty nuts.  I was coming unglued when I bear hugged refrigerator-sized rocks, only to see them move…and then I’d think of him having to lead past that and not kill me with it.  It got even more insane when we were pulling 5.7 or 5.8 moves on this loose junk with little or no gear in between us.  Luckily, that was over quickly.

The initial few hundred feet of simulclimbing terrain

The first pitch is a 5.8 lieback. I took this one while Justin refueled to pitch 2.  One wonderful decision we made was to carry one pack and have the leader nice and light. We found this helped quite a bit, plus the bag wasn’t *that* heavy.  I had a hard time in the lieback moves but unlocked the mantle puzzle that got me to the top.

Pitch 1, good times

The crux pitch involved a tough choice between two 5.9 cracks.  Both require similar gear and rate about the same, withe the right one having some loose blocky crap and the left one having a tough traverse to the notch you see up and to the right of it.  Justin jumped on the right one and styled it, leapfrogging #3 camalots for a pic that made him look about 20 feet runout.

Pitch 2, a really gneiss set of cracks to choose from

The third pitch was really gneiss too, 5.7 moves and I was lichen it. Sorry I had to say that.

Pitch 3, kinda sorta bad pro over 5.7-ish stuff

Pitch 4 was exciting, pulling us over now to the South side of the ridge. Justin disappeared around the corner after one last trademark pointing picture.

Pitch 4, Justin led an airy traverse clinging to the South face

The remaining pitches were pretty simple, skirting along the rtop of the ridge between summits.  I led the wicked-fun 2 foot wide catwalk with a thousand feet of air down on either side of me.

the summit! This vibe pretty much sums up the whole trip.

We hit the summit at about 4:00pm and enjoyed the views.  Speaking of a view, we had the opportunity to answer a long-standing question in life. Have you ever wondered where those helium baloons go when kids just let them fly away? They go to the !$%* picket range! We saw one and couldn’t believe it. Perhaps it was our lucky day?  See if you can spot the balloon in this picture.

Now for the descent…we were not looking forward to this, as it seemed fairly uncertain where the stations were or how many raps it would take.  It turned out that the first rap anchor is right off the West side of the summit.  We witnessed a monstrous icefall/rockfall in the West Ridge gully which most people rap down when they rap the entire route.  Fuck that.  After seeing the size of those blocks falling, no way.  We were going halfway down the West and to the South face.  Three 60-meter raps get you to down the West Face/ridge and as you descend, you get closer and closer to the edge of the abyss – the South face.  This was probably the hardest part for me here. I had to walk to the right side of the fall line as I rappelled but I couldn’t go too far or else I would go whipping off into the air off the South face. AAAaaaahhhh! Never a dull moment on this one.

This was the station that put you onto the South face rap route.  We cut off a faded and frayed old cord and added a new green one.  It’s 4 double rope raps from here. The first one is 95% air (ever rappelled off the monkey face at Smith?) to low-angled ground.

The final rappel of the South face put us right smack in the middle of a shooting range, complete with asteriods slammed into the glacier below.  We hauled ass down this and ran away *real fast*!

We got back to camp at 9:00pm, what a sweet day! We ate some hot food and crashed. Niether of us could go to sleep due to the fact that the sheer awesomeness of the whole trip up to this point had our minds racing.  It was nuts.  We couldn’t believe we pulled that all off – and with great weather! We slept in until about 8 and left at 9am.

The hike back took 5 hours. It killed us. The top was pretty, but the bottom was not.

the pretty part

the "pretty when I'm drunk" part

The Beckey Guide rates this as a “grade II-III” and the Nelson guide says grade III in the summary then a grade IV in the approach beta section. Whatever. Ask Fred what he thinks about it. He dislikes that hike and I don’t blame him. It’s a death march just like the N. Ridge of Stuart and real badasses do it in two days. My legs are no longer functioning properly and my shoulders have those annoying backpack strap welts on them.  I got nothing done at work today.

Timetable:

We left Seattle at 5:30am
Left trailhead at 9-ish
got to camp at 4:00pm or so
up at 4:30am and out at about 5:00am
climbing at 8:00am
off route at 9:00am
on route at 10:00am
summit at 4:00pm
done rappelling at 7:00pm
camp at 9:00pm
up at 7:30 and out of camp at 9:00am
sitting in a river, drinking a beer at 3:00pm

Gear:
2 60m ropes (can be done with a single 60 but the rap stations look manky.)
1 set of stoppers
single cams from fingers to #3 with another #2 and #3 for the wider stuff
lots of tied doubles

approach – The trailhead starts right in a campsite at a huge boulder. The trail itself is pretty simple to follow, with a couple sections of modest ‘schwack-tacular issues. At the Goodell campsite, the *near vertical* trail starts up to the right. There is no cairn/arrow/tape here. After thousands of feet of vertical death marching, there are trails across the heather benches at ~5200 feet. Cairns are here and there. The benches are similar to the Boston Basin trails. Camp is up and over a small pass. There is water/snow at camp in the first week of July, but I’m not sure how long that will last.

ascent – takes about 2-3 hours to get from camp to the base of the route. Simul-climb tied in 30M apart to the ridge. That part is CHOSSY, so watch out. The nelson guide and other beta detail the climb very well.

descent – The gully at the bottom of the West Ridge is a shooting gallery. Instead, try 3 double rope raps down the West ridge, then four more down the south face to the glacier. There is significant rockfall danger at the base of the South face, so run away fast. We witnessed a monstrous icefall/rockfall in the West Ridge gully which most people rap down.

de-proach – two hours or so to camp, 5-7 hours down. The trail is WAY easier to find on the way down.

I have a GPS track of the whole approach if anyone needs it.

Justin’s pics
My pics

Summary: Drunk as hell in Never-Never-Ham the night before. Stayed up until about 3:30 spraying all sorts of crap at Jared’s. Had no idea what was going on. front-pointing 5.8 traverse on mixed snow and ice. summit snickers. sweet ride off the summit with major death fall potential.

The climb:

This mountain GOES. It’s a hoot. Bonus because you can shred the north face. See below.

we ripped down the big face from the top to the left, then right below the cliff bands.

We were super hung over from the night before. We basically set ourselves up to die and somehow come out alive. It’s no example to follow in mountaineering, that’s for sure. Whatever. It works for Jared and I.

In September of 2006 we took a lap up this route. That was fun. However, we weren’t afforded the luxury of a dirtbike and a huge truck. This time we had to earn it. Yay! Time to get out the splitboards!

just after clearing the treeline

People have climbed this in the winter minus ropes. Uh no. It’s death fall potential in places and I’m not willing to take the risk. It’s simple climbing once you gain the ridge. Most climbing is done on the South side of the ridge.

The south side of the north twin isn’t worth riding. It gets melted out all year and the faces are too blocky and steep.

the route!

yay. we made it. now for the ride down..

Oh boy! and then it got better. Baker was wearing a hat but we were under the cloud deck. woo! The North face was mega shreddable.

Then the snow melted and a dirt bike appeared and we rode out in style.

WeeeeeEEEEEEEEEeeee!!!

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jaredvg/sets/72157604105644281/

http://www.flickr.com/photos/moronbros/sets/72157612760321660/

http://www.flickr.com/photos/moronbros/sets/72157610824624311/

SUMMARY: A 17.5 hour summit day. Road closures. Bear in camp. Salmon poachers. A broken-down car. Auto repair involving duct tape.

THE PLAN: Original plan was to drive up and hike in on Saturday, then summit and come out on Sunday. On Thursday, students wisely changed the plan in light of an iffy forecast: we were now leaving Friday, with the goal of approaching and summiting on Saturday.

The instructors sent out a list of questions that needed to be addressed, but these weren’t answered thoroughly and the plan was incomplete. Instructors’ biggest concern was that the students didn’t do much thinking about how long it would take us to execute the climb (no detailed itinerary was supplied), or what sort of time cushion we should build to avoid an unplanned bivy. Also noteworthy: students hadn’t picked up on the most recent Slesse report on Cascade Climbers, which said Slesse Creek Road was gated at it’s entrance, adding 4 miles to the approach.

THE CLIMB:

JUSTIN SAYS:

At Friday, 7 p.m., we met at 164th St P&R and headed north, arriving at Slesse Creek Road around 11. The students were surprised to see the road closure. We pulled into a clearing, decided on a 3 a.m. wake-up, and were in our bivies at midnight.

When the alarms went off, everybody did a great job of getting up and moving, and we started hiking up the road at 4 a.m. sharp. The students did a good job navigating the roads, correctly identifying the right turnoffs. We reached the trailhead at 5:40, took a quick break, and got back on the move.

Road blockage. LAME

From there, the trail started off easy, then got brutally steep, covering about 3,000 vertical feet in a mile. The students moved slow but steady, stopping for two breaks on the way up. Bill & I prodded them at each pause, reminding them that we needed to keep moving. This would be a theme throughout the day: the instructors supplied all of the urgency, always being the first ones to put on their packs after breaks, check the time, remind everyone where we stood relative to our schedule, note how much time remained before dusk etc. etc.

Oh and the bridge. Yeah that’s washed out. Who cares though. You’re on foot anyway because of the gate!

slesse brige washout

Just before we got on route, we needed to get our beta-on

We reached the bivy site at around 9, offloaded our bivy gear, and headed out, reaching the base of the climb at 10:45. Bill & Brian started up first. The first three pitches (2 pitch of scramble-tastic low-fifth terrain, followed by 2 pitches of mid-fifth) went fairly fast.

Brian was hauling frickin' ass. He did a great job

On the 5th pitch, Kristy took her first technical lead of the day, on 5.6 terrain. She was clearly nervous – breathing hard, placing multiple pieces within a couple of feet of each other, moving slowly. Eventually, she climbed around a corner and out of sight. As the last person in the party, I was in a vulnerable position—stones were hailing down and no one was yelling “rock”. I paid out about 40 meters of rope, then Kristy stopped moving for 35 minutes. Bill radioed down to say she was having trouble at the belay and that they were sorting things out. I’m not sure what caused the delay.

Justin and Kristy - about halfway up the route

BILL SAYS:

The approach was so unbelievably steep, I frequently found myself chuckling, thinking of how sadistic it was. I was impressed with the students’ ability to press onward when hiking. They were eager to take breaks, but we kept them moving. They both definitely need the urgency factor in the back of their minds. Also, Kristy’s attitude went from “yeah we’re doing great” to “you go first”, then degenerating into reluctance and doubt.

Please, don't even ask.

The reason for her delay at the anchor was simply that it was confusing to her. She had infinite rope drag, about 20 feet of rope left over, a few stoppers, and some small cams. The crack in front of her was flaring and required larger gear but there were smaller placements there. She saw this and started asking me questions like “Should I build an anchor?”. I reminded her that I couldn’t see her situation exactly and that she should be calling the shots as the lead on that rope. She was confused. I fixed a section of my rope, tied a figure-8 and dropped it to her so she had something to clip into while she improvised an anchor. 35 minutes, 1 stopper, and 1 small cam later, she was belaying Justin.

Brian had one minor problem, about pitch 3, he climbed up into a corner that ended in a roof that was obviously not the route. He got confused, but after a little pep-talk, he downclimbed and cleaned a few pieces in order to gain an adjacent crack system. Tired, he built an anchor and brought me up on this half pitch. I thought that was a good decision on his part.

JUSTIN SAYS

When I reached the belay, Kristy asked me to lead the rest of the climb so we could make up lost time. This was a great decision—it was 2:30 and, to stay on schedule, we had only 2.5 hours to climb what we believed were 4 remaining pitches. Kristy was smart to recognize that we needed to do whatever it took to move fast.

We summited at 4:15, snapped a couple of photos (including one of Bill doing a headstand!), and started descending at approximately 4:40. We had been on the move for more than 12 hours and everyone was getting tired. Bill & I took charge and led us down, finding the route, setting up the rappels, deciding when to downclimb etc. I think Brian could’ve handled these responsibilities but time was getting short and we were determined to get down before dark. Kristy maintained a good attitude but moved slowly and insisted the instructors go first on rappels etc.

Mt. Baker - viewed from the summit of Mt. Slesse

Justin and I - The best instructors on that summit, at the time.

The last climber reached the base at 7:30. We were on the main trail by 8 and, after a couple of routefinding snafus, back at camp at 9:15. Everyone was exhausted. We had brought pizza for dinner and we scarfed down a few slices, then collapsed into our bivies at 10.

At 10:04 I heard some rustling, switched on my headlamp, and looked up to see a big animal moving through some trees about 10 feet from my head, near where Brian’s pack and food were stashed. “It’s probably just a porcupine,” Bill said. Nonetheless, we mustered the energy to move our packs and food away from camp. The next morning, our packs were undisturbed but we saw a black bear about 200 yards from the bivy site. He missed an easy meal – there was still some pizza left, and we were definitiely too tired to put up a fight!

DAY 2: THE EPIC BEGINS

JUSTIN SAYS:

morning alpenglow on American Border Peak

Bill woke us up at 5 a.m. to get us out of there before the rain struck. This was a great call on Bill’s part, even though it was hard to get out of our warm & cozy bivies. The descent was steep but uneventful and, at 10 a.m, we were back at the cars.

and you thought you were done with this mess...

So now we’re at the bliss point. Everyone is safe. Our boots are off. Our packs are off our shoulders, and will stay that way for at least a few days. We’re drinking beer. Everything seems right in the universe. And maybe that’s why we decide to ignore the fact that the entire area around Bill’s subaru reeks of gasoline. Sure, we’re on the side of a mountain road, not exactly a place that’s supposed to smell like the repair bay at Jiffy Lube. But why ruin the moment?

So we jump in the car and start down the road. 45 seconds later, Bill notices the fuel gauge plummeting. We screech over to the shoulder and jump out of the car. Gas is streaming from the undercarriage. Brian dives under the car, spots a dime-sized hole in the gas tank, and plugs it with his thumb.

Chaos ensues. Brian is soaked in gas. We’re miles from civilization. We’ve got an 1/8th of a tank and a fast leak. Priority One becomes fashioning a patch that will get us to Chilliwack. Bill, Kristy & I rifle through our gear, looking for something, anything to plug the hole. Brian soldiers on with his thumb in the tank. Then the spirit of MacGyver descends, parts the seas of confusion, and delivers our moment of enlightenment: chewing gum. Bill and Kristy throw wads of the stuff into their mouths, munch it up, fashion a plug, and stuff it into the tank. Then comes the duct tape to hold the plug in place. It sticks, despite the grime and the gas. The leak is stopped – but how long before the gas eats through the gum and the tape?

This is about the time that a middle-aged dude shuffles out of the woods carrying a salmon the size of a porpoise. Seriously, that thing weighs at least 40 pounds, and is still bleeding and flopping around as the guy hustles it into his car. I ask him if it’s a Sockeye, and he says “No, it’s illegal to take Sockeye from this river. This is a ‘red tail’.'” Um….OK. We scratch our heads for a minute, then remember the only thing between us and an epic is a glob of Dentyne.

The patch holds until Chilliwack, where stops at an auto shop and a place called LordCo yield: a screw, a rubber washer, a tube of “Seal-all”, and a pair of vice grips. Brian climbs back under the car, and he and Bill swap the gum for the screw, doused in seal-all. And it holds. All the way through a 2.5 hour border wait, and all the way home to Seattle.

BILL SAYS:
happy ending -> brought the car to the mechanic. He took one look at the repair to the tank and said that’s the most rock-solid fix he’s ever seen a customer improvise. I’m stoked! He instructed me to keep it just as it is and charged me a bit for fishing the garden hose out of my gas inlet. Brian, Justin, and Kristy were CRITICAL in helping me work this out! Funny fact -> my car was parked on an embankment; The thief only got about a gallon! The nerve of some people!

Our wonderful gas tank patch!

Pics!

http://flickr.com/photos/justinmatlick/sets/72157606969860947/

http://flickr.com/photos/moronbros/sets/72157606959073177/

Thanks to the team for a great outing and thanks to Ryan for organizing this. It was a surreal trip out in the mountains this last weekend for Alpine 4. This report was written by Bill Booth and Carter added to it. It’s a long TR, but hey it’s a big mountain.

Summary:

Our plan: Hike out Saturday morning, climb the lower ridge to the bivy notch. Sleep there, then wake up early and finish the route. We planned to attack the Great Gendarme and skip the bypass on easier terrain. We had to go light, so we ditched the stove and brought cooked pizza. We also brought lightweight bivy gear and left axes/crampons at home.

The Trip:

We met up at the 65th street park-n-ride Friday evening at about 7:00 PM. Everyone showed up tired of the work week, ready to become even more tired and beaten. After about 2.654 hours, 1 bucket of fried chicken, and endless movie quotes we were at the Esmerelda Basin trailhead. We camped at the trailhead. We were up at about 4:30 AM and on the trail within an hour. Jeff and Nate both had large bags around 35 pounds. Carter and I were down below 30 with smaller bags. The weather was pleasant and we hiked quickly to Ingalls Lake, through Stuart Pass, Goat Pass, then to the base of the North Ridge.

Ingalls Lake on the way to Stuart

On the way out we came across a Canadian couple who were bailing off the West Ridge due to the fact that lightning kept them up all night. She pointed over toward Jack Ridge where a lightning-sparked forest fire was consuming 200 year-old douglas firs within minutes each. We took a couple pics, sprayed a bit about cascadeclimbers.com and parted. Later, Ryan told me they saw smoke jumpers going nuts all over the place on Sunday.

Fire on Jack Ridge!

We didn't bring stoves, so this was it

The last water before getting on route was a huge glacier runoff below the Stuart Glacier. We filled up a couple bottles each and located the base of the ridge. We were roped up and climbing by noon Saturday. The first pitch featured a memorable “5.8 squeeze” which absolutely ate our lunch. Nate finally got through it and we continued. It was a rude awakening indeed. It took all four of us 2 hours to pass that pitch, which didn’t exactly lend itself to our alpine urgency mindset.

Pitch 1: "5.8 squeeze" WTF does that mean?

Pitch 2 was a great lieback 5.8/5.8 corner, but the rest was junk up to the bivy.

Pitch 2 - fun 5.8 hands/fingers

Nate and Jeff did a good job leading while on fixed belay and simul-climbing. We could tell each team needed some work to get more efficient, but that came eventually. We got to the notch around 8:00 PM and passed out in the mega-plush bivy site with the place to ourselves. Jeff and Nate learned how good dinner could be when you bring a folded-in-half 1,200-calorie take home pizza for dinner. We planned not to have a stove and it worked out perfectly. We went to sleep all fat and warm and happy. Carter -> All I had were peanuts.

Jeff cleaning up our awesome bivy spot halfway up the ridge

Then, the exact weather forecast played out. All of us had at least a little trouble sleeping that night. The winds picked up as night fell, we were in a cloud all night, and we woke up with a thin layer of rime ice and snow all over us at 4:30 AM Sunday. We wanted to make a call. It was either A – complete the climb because we knew the weather was going to be better *or* B – bail to the glacier and fend for ourselves amidst house-eating crevasses, solid glacier ice, and hiking shoes with no crampons or axes or pro. Obviously, our decision was quick but I questioned the fact that Jeff and Nate contemplated it. We were essentially committing ourselves by not bringing glacier gear. It was clear our options were limited before we even started. Good thing though, because we had a great time simul-climbing away from the bivy site. The terrain was wildly exposed in places, North faces were windy and blustery and Southern faces were protected and warm. The clouds were slamming into the ridge on the North side and whipping up into the air, dissolving. That mountain -creates- weather for itself.

Jeff follows me on a simul-climbing mission

After hours and hours of simul-climbing, we ended up at the base of the Great Gendarme. Two short pitches of 5.9. One is a steep lieback (think Split Pillar) and the second was a steep 4-inch offwidth with a fixed #4.

Here it is. The sweetest part of the whole thing. The great gendarme.

Nate took the lead up the first pitch, cruising it until he hollered “ROCK! CAM! Watch O…*expletive deleted*” He didn’t know what to yell, but it was clear once his #2 camalot went whipping off into the abyss he was angry. He shook it off quickly though. Jeff and I got him another #2 from our rack and he fired it. Before we knew it, he had a hauling system built and was dragging all four of our bags to the top. Props to the ropegun/hauling technician! It was Jeff’s lead once Carter got up and Jeff was up in the air. Do I lead it clean, have them drop a top-rope, or pink-point the hard stuff? I reminded him that it was alpine climbing and that if tugging on gear or clipping something the party in front left behind will save time, go for it. If it gets us off the mountain before dark, then do it. He rallied up the layback in 5 minutes and had me on belay in…get ready…1 hour and 15 minutes. Carter -> It was a big CF once Jeff got up. There were three people, four packs, and a pile of rope on a slab as big as coffee table 9000ft in thin air. I couldn’t tell if we were held to the mountain by one metolious or maybe it was just the packs that were anchored or what. Sucked for Bill to have to hang out below and Jeff had already started out before I called down to wait a bit for the ledge to clear. Dealing with two rope teams can sometimes be difficult and time consuming.

That’s right. Time flies when you’re alpine climbing! The ledge that Carter, Nate, and Jeff were on was too small to accommodate me so I stood at the base of the first gendarme pitch and waited. During this time, I could hear the bar fight as Nate attacked the off width. He topped out, built *another* hauling system and lugged two bags up. After banging my head against the rock for a bit and stretching to keep warm, Jeff had me on belay, for real this time.

During this huge break, we made a decision that probably bought us a half hour and an appreciable factor of safety. Instead of leading the next pitch, then hauling, then bringing Jeff up, second team would toprope it. Nate had a good anchor straight above us with a redirect over the offwidth. He dropped a rope and brought me up, then I trailed a rope and brought Jeff up. Jeff and I just climbed with our bags to avoid building another haul system. It worked perfectly and we saved a bit of time. Jeff climbed without gloves and his fingers almost froze and fell off. Carter -> The whole gendarme section was a good experience in engineering solutions for getting everyone up safely and timely. It wasn’t just team one lead/follow, team two lead/follow. We optimized it such that only one person had to lead and only two packs had to be hauled. The only thing that got the short end was ego.

Terrain between the Gendarme and summit

We simul-climbed to the summit from there. One interesting 5.8/5.9 crack got in front of us before the summit. It was now 6:00 PM on the summit and we feared we wouldn’t get to the split in the trail before dark.

Jeff and Carter on the summit of Stuart

Just before we left, two guys topped out from the West Ridge. They didn’t have descent beta, so they followed us. Nate had been down the trail to the false summit already, so he knew the way. We got to the top of the Cascadian couliour in 30 minutes and to the valley in about 2 hours. We chugged water at the creek and rallied up Longs Pass then down back to the car. We got to the car at 11:15 PM, made a bunch of racket, and drove home.

Carter’s descent beta -> The cascadian couliour sucks, you’re better off just dying of starvation and/or exposure on the summit.

Nate’s pics: http://www.flickr.com/photos/15180755@N06/sets/72157606674180038/
Bill’s pics: http://www.flickr.com/photos/moronbros/sets/72157606681902249/
Nate’s Dream Grad Climb: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9U0tDU37q2M

Date: 8/2/2008
n00bs: Oscar and Myself
Trip Report:
After assembling the ultimate franken-beta from three past TRs on CC.com and the pic from the nelson guide, we were set on climbing the route in a long day. It was clear that after doing this, we weren’t as strong as we’d like to be but it WAS SO WORTH IT. The epic began when Oscar forgot the rope back in Kirkland. Our little Kirkland trip allowed us to munch some tender vittles at subway and stuff our pockets with energy bars at QFC. yay. Here’s my over-sized TR.

In the car on the way out, I get an email from a buddy with a link to a “funny video”. Oscar almost killed us driving off the road laughing while watching this. We forgot our cameras, so for those of you that need pictures, here you go. This climb has been brought to you by this video – Google “jon lajoie show me” if you’re not at work or insensitive. Beware, this video is a bit strange and probably off-color, but it served a point.

We knew there had been others to climb the line car-to-car in 18 hrs or so. This was a lofty goal, but we gave it a shot anyway. We hauled ass up to the lake, through the slide alder, up the gulley and to the base of the route, but from there it all slowed down. It was an efficnency/alpine urgency issue at this point.

Our goal was to free the whole thing except for the P5 huge roof and the (5.12?) A1 roof at the top of pitch 7.

Left the car at 0500 on Saturday
ditched bags at colchuck lake at 0745

The Approach:
Make sure to scope out your line through the slide alder to the gulley by standing back at the lake for a better view. ‘schwack from rock patch to rock patch and you’re in the base of the gully in 20 minutes. Remember, deciding where to start walking into slide alder is like deciding where to shoot yourself. Just go. You always lose.

base of the climb at 0900

and now for a blow-by-blow analysis of the *actual rock climbing*. note: I’m using pitch numbers from the nelson/potterfield book.

P0 (half the parties scramble this. i’d much rather rope up.)
Oscar climbed the first pitch of easy 5th to the base of the 10+.

P1
It was like being woken up by falling out of a bunk bed. A total smack in the face, this 5-move, all-4-in-the-crack pitch was a real kick in the balls. 10+ is a perfect rating.

P2
linked this 5.7 chimney with P1. Belayed from the notch below the actual 5.9 step across. way better gear for an anchor here! When linking these two, pay attention to rope drag.

P3
Oscar hopped up to the 5.9 “step across” into two totally bitchin’ cracks. The right crack is fingers on a face and the left crack is hands in a little corner. All stemming, totally fun. He fired it in good style.

P4
I ran up the easy lower 5th terrain to the base of the super-bad-ass sustained corner crack below the roof. I sat there hanging in my harness looking up at that corner, drooling, not really paying attention to my belaying.

P5
This is why we came here. It’s a beautiful, steep, fingers to hands sized corner running up to a massive roof. Oscar freed it and followed. We hung a few times, but it was marvelous. We had doubles of BD .3-#3 but Oscar lamented the fact that we didn’t triple up on .75 pieces for this pitch. It would have made freeing it mo’ bettah. The last 15 feet is wet in the crack. We freed it anyway, but it was pretty damn slimy.

P6
There are fixed pins with a bunch of mank hanging off of them at the belay under the huge roof. Someone tied knots down a 1-inch sling hanging about 6 feet above the belay, so you can aid right off this to get up to the crack under the roof. I suppose you could belay from right below the roof, but you’d have less of the insane view of Stuart and the rest of the scenery. I aided through the roof and switched to free after the roof. about 4 free moves to the base of P7. Note: beware of the notch in the roof when you pull around it. Set a directional piece to avoid rope drag here.

P7
This was spectacular as well. 5.9 hands on an arching right-facing dihedral. Not as steep as the .11 below but SO FUN. Sequences of jamming, then laybacks, then switching to aiding at the top. I plugged my handy #4 into the roof here, noted that I could have hung a cadillac from it, then aided past it. I stopped below the “5.9+” chimney, hanging the whole shit-show from a couple aliens and an equalette.

Time was an issue at this point. We had been on route for WAY too long. I fixed the line and Oscar jugged this pitch. The sun was going down in the next 20 minutes. We dug around in our pockets for headlamps. oh bother.

P8
It was Oscar’s lead. We knew all about this pitch. Everything they say is true. This is one of the most heinous offwidth chimneys we had ever seen in the Cascades. He cursed and yelled and bled all over this pitch, but he got up it in good time using mostly #2-#4 pieces, his bleeding extremities, and his helmet. Instead of hollering “good job!” or “you’re kicking ass!” it was “knock knock” and then I’d get a “who’s there?” from Oscar (see video link above). This brought our spirits up a bit. We laughed, we cried. We decided I’d jumar this pitch to save time. yeah, that really helped..

The last section to the summit:
Once up, he pulled all the slack up to me, fixed it, I jugged, then he soloed up as far as he could go above the top of the chimneys (easy terrain) while I jugged. He built an anchor, fixed that section of rope and batmanned back down that line to me. I showed up, we sobbed tears of joy, and then I led off into the darkness toward the balanced rock. I ran out of rope, he came up to me and climbed past to the balanced rock. If there were still daylight, we would have simul-climbed this section.

Summited at 2030 – gettin’ ready for an EPIC!

The sun was long gone, headlamps moved around down at Colchuck Lake, we shivered and ate and drank and laughed at our silly little adventure to this point.

The De-Proach:
There’s a bunch of tat hanging off the East side of the balanced rock. This is the top of the 30m rap that goes to the sandy ledges. DO NOT rap toward the edge you can’t see over. You can look East toward Cashmere and Wenatchee at night and see the lights. This is the direction you go. We found that out the hard way.

When going to the ledges, you literally fall off the end of the 30m rappel and go about 1 foot onto the sand. perfect distance.

um. yeah. we had a bit of an epic from this point onward. All I’m going to say is that we didn’t descend the right way, we got cliffed out, and we had to shiver all night on a small patch of moss in the trees. So much for the “easiest descent in the Cascades” hah!

We ended up doing some 1:30 AM scree-surfing down toward colchuck lake. Luckily I have a headlamp that I could cook food with, so I could see a couple hundred feet in front of us. At least I could see that we were *absolutely screwed* and that we needed to wait until first light.

We got up with the sun and noticed we were looking at the route from below. We were about 200 feet below the route and out to the West on the scree slopes. We ended up traversing back to the last col you climb to right before the base of the route. two raps off trees got us down to the col and it was smooth sailing from there. This climb is quite nice indeed.

Back to the car at 1100 on Sunday – that’s about 30 hours. ouch.

Other Notes:
- if you have to do any gardening, you’re off route.
- get good descent beta before you climb.
- do not bring a backpack. stuff your headlamp and food in your jacket pockets.
- clip shoes and water bottles to your harness.
- get good descent beta before you climb.
- there is no water on route…well except for the inside of the top of of the .11 crack =)
- Gear: a double rack is ideal for this route.
- bring aiders, stuff them in your pockets
- clip some jumars to your harness.
- get good descent beta before you climb.
- not only does the bacon at Kristal’s in 11worth look like a dog toy, it tastes like one too.

And that is the story of my first unplanned night in the woods.

Gear Notes:
Doubles in camalot sizes .3 – #3, bring a #4 for the second small roof. jumars/aiders helpful for both leader/follower. cams/nuts sufficient for all aiding, no hook moves

Approach Notes:
Watch out for fanny-pack tourists on the trail. One of the biggest hazards on this trip.

Jared, Bill

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jaredvg/sets/72157606022500916/

The beta:

My scribbles

This was a particularly rad climb. Jared and I were eyeballing the NW corner and this route trying to figure out what we’d like more. The corner has an “offwidth” which scared us. What we didn’t know was that the west face route has its own OW in the form of a short 5.8-ish unprotectable pulled-away flake. It was so scary for me, I backed off it.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jaredvg/sets/72157601710738682/