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Original plan was to climb the south gully of Guye but decided to drive down the Alpental road to check out conditions. Ice cragging a short walk from the car doesn't come along very often in Washington! There was a decent amount of ice on the various Alpental falls. A grab bag of thin/brittle with some fatter bits and some low angle hero plastic thrown in. Plenty of water running under everything. Mostly we set up a top rope on the climbers leftmost side directly under the Phantom Slide (Aplental IV I think?)...I've skied this in fatter snow years ::sigh:: Alpental II looked pretty fun though dicey for good screw placements. Sadly I only brought a few screws because the original plan was Guye (sorry Michelle!) so we didn't go up it. Saw two guys who said they went up to look at NY Gully and it was totally dry/ice free, otherwise no other climbers. I think Alpental II is the far right flow

A few more photos from a single-push on the Emmons I forgot about.

Hearing today that my partner Jiri Richter has died on Rainier. We didn't find many summits together, but it wasn't for lack of trying. He was the sort of strong, solid, quietly competent partner I sought and most enjoyed. Aside from mountaineering, Jiri was an accomplished paraglider, who had an affinity for launching from difficult spots, and once took off from Poo Poo Point in Issaquah and landed in Yakima. Thank you for the fun and laughs, Jiri.

I took a look at, but chose not to climb, Eliot headwall on 2026-01-25. Here's a picture. It's a bit difficult to tell but I suspect that much of the snow is very firm. I haven't been up the north face gullies this season but in late november cooper spur offered roughly 1000 feet of climbing with penetration varying from crampon points to the ball of the foot or so.

Trip: Coleman Pinnacle - Standard Trip Date: 12/30/2025 Trip Report: It has been a slow start to the ski season. A very slow start. But despite the setbacks, I've managed to have a few good days the past several weeks up in the Baker backcountry. We're fortunate up this way in that our usual backcountry backyard emerged relatively accessible from the December Floods. US2 and 410 aren't quite so lucky. I've not been doing anything remarkable the past few weeks in the Baker backcountry, but I do have a new camera that I have been having fun getting to know and so why not post a few photos from the classic Coleman Pinnacle tour? This is an outing that I tend to come back to over the past 20, climbing it every 5 years or so, if only for the views and the fun run down into Wells Creek. If you haven't been out that way.....you probably won't like it. Best to stay near town and reduce your carbon footprint. Sunrise from the parking lot: The classic view of Baker from Artist Point never gets old (to me): @Trent approaching the heli line: @Trent and Coleman Pinnacle: Der Shukshan: @Trent skinning up under Coleman Pinnacle: Summit of Coleman Pinnacle: Out to Chowder Ridge: Descending from the summit with Baker looming ahead: Ptarmigan in winter plumage down in Wells Creek: Windy on der Kulhsan: coming back up over Table on the way home: Shuksan is one of my favorites in the North Cascades: Sunset from the parking lot. As Ice Cube would say, "Today was a good day". Gear Notes: flotation, but please, leave the snowshoes at home. Approach Notes: Heather Meadows to Artist Point to alpine glory

Great shots Jason, the new camera is proving itself! Thanks for getting me out for a great day!

Jiri and I were roommates in 2013-14. He was one of the first people I met outside of work, and he helped make me feel welcomed in Seattle. His athleticism was inspirational and I admired his love for travel. He took me on a memorable tandem paragliding ride from Poo Poo Point in Issaquah. I'll remember you, Jiri, for reminding me to keep doing the things that give you joy. RIP.

I worked with Jiri at Microsoft. I was his last manager before he left. In the spirit of some live to work and others work to live, Jiri tilted the balance of his life towards adventure. This is the cake we made for him at his send off in 2011. To quote Mary Oliver: "What is it you will do with your one wild and precious life?" Rest in peace Jiri Richter and thank you for inspiring us with your one wild and precious life. John Lambert Corporate Vice President Microsoft Corporation

Yeah I just need to get a redirect reenabled there. I turned it off when troubleshooting after rebuilding everything

Great write up and beautiful photos of Steve Barnett's favorite July ski tour! I've been meaning to do it but that southeast side of Table after a good snow spooks me. You hit it right in terms of timing. I was sitting on top of Hadley Peak in late July taking in that view (seen in your Chowder Ridge pic, but from the opposite view). Such dreamy ski touring terrain for an extended snow camping trip! In Barnett's 1987 book "The Best Ski Touring In America" (highly recommended!), he talks about the winter avalanche risk on that SE aspect of Table (hence his preferred time to do it is in summer), and how a party got caught in a storm on the way back and buried up to their necks by an avalanche off that side of Table. Instead of continuing to Artist Point, the party turned back and made an epic exit via Wells Creek drainage, stumbling over logs and through icy water and devils club thickets in freezing rain. Barnett wrote: "They spent the night keeping warm by wringing their clothes out". Type 2 fun. Even when you hit the Wells Creeks logging road it's still a looong slog back to Nooksack falls and the 542. Coming back via Chain Lakes and Herman saddle is less avalanche risk but that group probably hadn't done it before and the route finding through the trees and hillocks covered in snow can be circuitous. I believe Chowder Ridge is actually the ridge barely seen in shadow on the right skyline of the photo. The rounded ridge in front of it I believe is Dobbs Cleaver, draining into Bar Creek. It's wild terrain up there, so close yet feels so remote when you are back in there. The peaklet to the left of Hadley on the connecting ridge is Peak 7842 and continues up Bastille Ridge to the Cockscomb just north of Grant Peak. That view of the bowls of Wells Creek in your "coming back up over Table" photo look amazing! Ted Mueller wrote in his 1968 book "Northwest Ski Trails" (with great B&W photos from the Spring brothers): "These north-facing slopes are smooth and unbroken between 4800 feet and 6200 feet. The variety of runs is unlimited throughout this entire area." Rainier Burgdorfer wrote in his 1999 book "100 Classic Backcountry Ski and Snowboard routes" : "Whether or not you decide to reach Coleman Pinnacle, there are abundant possibilities for runs over 1,500 feet in length." Thank you for posting up!

Three weeks ago, when it was still winter:

Black Cloud Thunder by Twark Might It is eleven PM. Thirty feet of snow has fallen in the last twenty minutes. My fingers are frozen solid. The wind is pounding our ropes and our determination. Our belay consists of one piton hammer stuck three millimeters into a rotting hunk of moss. Harry Hampered is vomiting green and brown spew and bleeds copiously from his rock-fall-broken nose as I get ready for the final pitch of our new route on Les Grands Tombés in Chamonix. Worst of all, I think I’m out of batteries and can’t listen to my Discman. * * * I got the call three weeks ago in Boulder. I was sitting at the Airy Green Fairy café with--let’s call her--Amy. “Twark,” she pressed, sensing doubt perhaps by the way I held my pinky on my espresso-cup hand, “now is when I need you. I’m starting my organic community garden for underprivileged Latino youth with cerebral palsy and autism, and I need your support. I want you here with me and those kids, being a role model and helping.” Away off in the distance, September snows dusted the Rockies. Her voice drifted away into the clear empty air as icy couloirs, sheer granite cracks and ripping winds filled my mind with the usual NWA soundtrack: “You think I give a damn about a bitch? I ain’t a sucker!” “I’ve got stuff to do,” I told her, throwing a fiver on the table and standing up. Idly, I wondered if she was good for another round in the sack, and then forgot about it as I saw the Big Bad Bodies Gym sign down the street. Time for pain. * * * Climbing will go faster, I realize, now that I have cut Leif Trailer free from the rope and he has fallen to the death that suits wussy people who refuse to lead dangerous pitches. His screaming is nearly gone from my mind as I start up the pitch. I find a tenuous placement for my left tool. An enormous chunk of ice slams my right shoulder, breaking my arm. I now have only one arm to climb with. As the pitch begins to overhang by 45 degrees, I have to do one-armed dynos with my left tool to ever smaller holds with no feet. I move up thirty feet on no gear, then grab my tool with my teeth so I can use my arm to put in a screw. “Eat my ass, Will Gadd, Raphael Slawinski and Stevie Haston,” I mutter through a mouthful of tool. “THIS is mixed climbing.” * * * Alpine climbing is brute amazing pain, punctuated with moments of elation that only the few and the proud—the hard alpinists—will (and should) ever be able to savor. I begin my training routine with six hundred one-armed pull-ups per arm off of my Stubai straight-shafts. Bent tools are for posers. I follow this with six marathons and two thousand push-ups. In the weeks that follow, the frequency of Amy’s phone messages drops to around one per day. I get into the Zone, crank up the Joy Division and the Rancid, and get hard. Nights, I rent Masters of Stone videos and wonder at all the losers working boulder problems, prominently displaying their Patagucci and Horse Race clothing. The only way you could get farther from Real Climbing is to sit on a beach and imagine a mountain. And then float up it. * * * “Secure,” I scream at Harry. Towers of black cloud thunder over us as Harry jugs the pitch. He arrives, and I look deep into his eyes, and want to kiss him when he says “You are one crazy motherfucker.” This is why I climb in the alpine—to feel so close to both death and another man that kissing him and watching him die become equivalent sensations and equal possibilities. We are close, Harry and I, as we posthole toward the summit up the final snow slope. Then I hear the rumble of the avalanche. * * * I want to go light. We pack two screws, one nut, three small cams and one two-millimeter rope. Weight is for gumbies. I am naked under my Gore-Tex suit. The harness feels delicious on my scrotum as I test my gear in the privacy of my apartment. We will bring only water, energy bars and caffeine pills, and we will climb for 80 hours non-stop in order to finish the route. Boulder is full of girls with ‘biners holding coffee mugs to their backpacks and morons in SUVs with Petzl stickers as I head to the airport. Maybe the hardest moment of the climb is persevering through the dangerous approach slopes of sport, trad rock, bouldering, aid and gym climbing that threaten to avalanche safe idiocy onto me as I work toward The Real Thing. * * * Hanging with one heel spur, the avalanche roars over me. I vaguely hear Harry screaming as I take his full weight and he dangles in space. Something jogs my Discman, and suddenly the music returns. “Don’t call, don’t call me white,” sings Pennywise, something I can identify with. Who wants to be a member of the lame loser class that dominates? I get energy, and use my arm to haul Harry up. We continue to the top, blink twice, and stumble down toward bed. The next morning, we discuss the route name and grade over coffee. We agree on “Fuck the Entire Universe, Who Are Losers but Don’t Know It,” and grade the route at Grade VIII, WI7 A5+ 5.15c M22X. Harry, after this experience, will never climb with me again. And so, at the end of the climb, I am only really beginning up the lonely mountain of total alpinist commitment. http://www.falling.ca/

Historically, a solid gold thread. This is what we’re fighting to preserve, but also to continue. The free flowing exchange of ideas represented.

I took a clinic from twight at the ouray ice fest last year and right as he started talking his crampons got tangled and he fell on his face. And then later he was soloing around on some easy WI and dropped one of his leashless tools. It was quite entertaining.

FUCK YOU!!! I once tripped on the way to the gym while crossing the parking lot...it really sucked...i almost quit climbing and took up skiing because of it!