2008 ICC Grad Climb
Mt. Slesse, NW Face (5.6, grade 2/3)
Students: Brian Sullivan, Kristy Kleedehn
Instructors: Justin Matlick, Bill Booth
August 23-24, 2008
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/
Tags: alpine climbing, canada, icc, slesse, trip report
