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Trip: Ruth, Mineral, and the not so Easy way to Easy Peak - Mineral Mountain High Route Trip Date: 08/12/2023 Trip Report: "This route goes from Hannegan Pass to join the Easy Ridge High Route. It is an arduous approach to the Northern Pickets. The most gruesome moments of green hell and cliffs are at Chilliwack Pass: the rest is alpine nectar." - Routes and Rocks In the Mt. Challenger Quadrangle. Tabor and Crowder. 1968 And so it goes- the yin and yang of North Cascades High routes. I like "alpine nectar" as much as anyone, and so does @BrettS, so we chose to ignore the first part of that description and headed out to find out for ourselves. As expected with a description like that, NOCA permits in Glacier were a breeze. A welcome break from the madness of Saturday mornings in Marblemount. Then ......we went into the hills for three days and walked a lot - sometimes on a trail, sometimes hovering over the ground on brush, sometimes skipping through alpine meadows that would make @rat break out in song. We had nice camps, we had tunes, we had whiskey and too much camera gear. The verdict- either we are getting toughened up, or forgetful, but I don't think either of us found the crux to be much of a "green hell"- more "black flies and heat" hell. Regardless, the trip certainly traverses some of the more scenic ridge lines in the range, and exit out Easy Ridge is especially, well, easy. Same with the entry via Hannegan Pass and Mount Ruth. The middle involves..... some shenanigans, but you knew that. Pretty pictures never tell the full story in the North Cascades. Both our camps near Ruth and on the summit of Easy Peak were highlights, as was the midday swim in the tarn below Easy Peak. Lowlights, as mentioned earlier, were the heat and bugs. But, having the Tom Selleck of the alpine along made it all seem like a breeze. Ruth from Hannegan trail: Alpine nectar! Blum and Icy: Go do the North Ridge of Blum! Slesse, the Haunted House of the Chilliwack: If you see this, you are about to start the shenanigans: The view distracts from the sidehill of green steepness: @BrettS past most of the shenanigans: This summer has been really hard on the glaciers: Crowder and Pioneer in front of the Southern Pickets: Get your autograph pens ready! Rare @JasonG sighting in the wild: Alpine nectar! Summit of Easy Peak: Southern Pickets: Pioneer and the mysterious depths of the Baker River: Late season insanity around Kulshan and Shuksan: Tomyhoi at sunset: I've never seen Challenger looking so grim: Putting in the work on the photos....Now do you see why I carry that yellow pad? The smoke teased, but never fully engulfed us: Looking across the border into Canada, where there is another fire: A tad soft, unfortunately, but the Hozomeens at sunrise: Spickard and the Mox Peaks: Alpine Nectar! fin: Gear Notes: We were able to avoid all ice and didn't need anything other than helmets. No glacier gear needed if you go around on Ruth Approach Notes: Follow Tabor and Crowder. Find yourself a copy of Routes and Rocks!

Trip: Bonanza Peak's Southwest Summit, West Face - Cascadian Route V 5.10+ Trip Date: 08/26/2023 Here's a couple obligatory John Scurlock photos of the western aspect of Bonanza's Southwest Summit: Trip Report: Summary: Sam Boyce and I took a 3-day weekend to climb a new route* on the West Face of Bonanza’s SW Summit. The Cascadian Route (V 5.10+) ascends Bonanza’s intimidating western wall. Our line gains >2,000 vertical feet over 16 pitches and 2,800’ of climbing. For context, our route is off to looker’s right of its neighbors to the north, the Soviet Route (1976) and the Oregonian Route (2013), both of which ascend the Northwest Buttress (previously also referred to as the "West Buttress", and in 1976 "the North Face") of the SW summit. In a marked up version of Sam's photo below: The approx. Cascadian route in green (each dot approx 3 pitches); the Soviet and Oregonian routes off to the left meet near the 8,700’ subsummit pinnacle on the skyline (red point), before ascending mellower terrain on the peak’s more-northern aspect (out of view; parties apparently traversed left under red roofs of the summit block): On the Scurlock photo, same color scheme (Soviet red, Cascadian green), but with the Oregonian start indicated by an orange dot: From the 9,320’ summit, we descended the Isella Glacier, which (as can be seen on satellite imagery) is split at approx. mid-height by a magically continuous undulating walkway. We were able to walk and downclimb (one low-fifth crux) to roughly 6,900’ without rappelling or touching snow, then used a notch/gully to drop through the peak’s south ridge before circling back up to our 7,000’ camp near the North Star – Bonanza col. Near the col above the bivy, there remains a small snow patch that provides water, even near the end of this hot dry 2023 summer. Report: Several years ago en route to climb Dark Peak with my friend Jon, we crossed (interminable and uniquely annoying scree) under Bonanza’s SW summit and gaped up at the expanse of rock on its western flank. I made a mental note to explore new routes if given the right conditions. Thanks to Sam’s can-do attitude and vision, and the forecasted wildfire smoke that ruled out other candidates, this was the moment. On Friday 25 Aug we made the time-consuming approach (car, Chelan-Lucerne ferry, Holden bus transport, many miles of walking); Saturday we finished the approach, climbed and descended to camp (15 hours, dawn to dusk); and early Sunday boogied out to catch the 10am Holden to Lucerne bus, then ferry, etc., etc. Would you believe the route looked this good all the way up? (Above: Sam follows the pleasurable 5.10a pitch 8, sends a sweet 5.10 corner on pitch 9, and earns his kale on the 5.10+ pitch 13 overhang) That would be a mistake: (Above: Eric confronts the heinous choss band of 5.8+ pitch 4, and the tricky steep delights of 5.10R pitch 12) While there were enjoyable stretches, there were also satiating portions of choss. Roof systems, particularly a large one that spans the west face feature near the top, provided few weaknesses and narrowed free-climbing line options to 1 or maybe 2 in places. We were both concerned about passage near the top, as bailing would be fraught and difficult. The technical highlights were five pitches of 5.10; three of these (pitches 8, 9 & 13) sported steep and fun climbing, but another two (pitches 11 & 12) were horsepuckey. For much of the climbing on these two steep 5.10R puckery pitches, literally not a single hold was loose; nah, haha, two or more were. While the featured rock inspired a kind of upward hope, protection was occasional, creative, and even whimsical—bring your bag of tricks. These pitches offered quality terror-tainment (@rat ©). This was a no meat-rain zone. The rest of the route predominantly ranged from mid-fifth to 5.8 on similarly varying rock quality—any given hold might be probably portable, or revealed as a solid protrusion of the mountain, eternally nonmoving and crank-able. Climbing of this sort can be extremely engaging and stimulating, and while Sam and I enjoyed moving up the route, it might not be to others’ tastes. For interested folks, he took concise notes on the pitches, and will hopefully chime in here with that info. * I encountered a 2.5” Trango Flex-Cam in a crack with a ‘biner attached on pitch 4, after the first heinous choss band but before the most technical climbing. This late-‘90s/early-aughts era cam was in a textbook placement and easily removed. The sling is weathered, perhaps had been sitting there for 10-20 years (hard tellin'). Anyway, given no evidence of passage in the pitches above, we surmise that perhaps this was used for bailing. A search for attempts or climbs of this feature has not borne fruit. However, if anyone knows better, please advise. Here are a few more photos. They don’t really do the route’s position and exposure justice, but they do serve to highlight the area’s rock/choss quality variability. (Above: choose your own adventure, then call your mom) (Above: In a move that typifies much of the climbing, Sam stems out in search of better rock) (Above: Eric following the overhanging section of 5.10+ on pitch 13) Here's an album with more pics, including descent: https://photos.app.goo.gl/8qAiXj6o4BfRSGJm9 Gear Notes: Lots of small gear was helpful, a bag of tricks (ball nuts, tricams) useful, and we also used some pins at belays. No need really for anything larger than a #3. 70m rope. Approach Notes: There are many ways to get there, but we took arguably the easiest starting via the ferry to Lucerne. Good bivy sites just south of the North Star – Bonanza col, around 7,000'

Trip: Uzbekistan - Alpomish - New Highpoint of Uzbekistan Trip Date: 08/23/2023 Trip Report: Alpomish (4668m, IV, 7 pitch 5.8), Highpoint of Uzbekistan, and Khazret Sultan (4643m, III, 2 pitch 5.7), Second Highest Peak in Uzbekistan Aug 21-26, 2023 Eric Gilbertson and Andreas Frydensberg First Ascent of Alpomish Andreas near the summit of Alpomish Aug 21 – Taxi to Sarytog village, hike in Aug 22 – Hike to base of Alpomish Aug 23 – Climb Alpomish (7 pitch 5.8) Aug 24 – Hike to base of Khazret Sultan Aug 25 – Climb Khazret Sultan (2 pitch 5.7) Aug 26 – Hike out, taxi to Dushanbe Until now it was widely accepted that Khazret Sultan Peak was the highest peak in Uzbekistan. I’m working on climbing country highpoints so it was on my list to climb. On this trip we discovered that Alpomish, a previously unclimbed peak, is in fact the true Uzbekistan highpoint. Khazret Sultan is located on the border with Tajikistan in the Gissar Range and is not a popular peak. It was most likely first climbed by Soviet mountaineers in the 1930s or in 1961, possibly a surveying team. It was first named Peak of the 22nd Party Congress, but this name was dropped after Uzbekistan gained independence. The peak was next climbed in August 2005 by Ginge Fullen and Tajik guide Tolic, climbing the northeast ridge from the Tajikistan side. This was Ginge’s third attempt to climb the highpoint and he discovered extremely valuable beta about the route and logistics. This would make it much easier for future climbers like me. The route On the summit they found the cairn left by the first ascent team. At that point the peak was officially unnamed and just referred to by its elevation, Peak 4643. This was the elevation measured on the most recent ground survey, the 1981 soviet topographic map. Based on the 1981 soviet topographic map, the most accurate map of the area, this was considered the highest peak in Uzbekistan. There were no higher peaks on the map and no subsequent ground surveys after 1981 of the area. In June 2010 a team of Uzbek climbers climbed the peak also from the Tajikistan side and later gave it the officially-recognized name of Khazret Sultan Peak. They officially recognized it as the highpoint of Uzbekistan. This unfortunately has led to a bit of confusion because there was already another peak named Mount Khazret Sultan in Uzbekistan at an elevation of 4083m. That is considered a holy mountain and is frequently climbed by pilgrims. It is not the country highpoint. Since 2010 there was one other known ascent, by Pat Bauman (solo) in August 2018 via the northeast ridge. Pat gave me excellent beta, saying the route was mostly 4th class with one or two pitches of 5.7 (which he soloed up and down). He also gave me a few GPS coordinates of key locations on the route. The 1981 Soviet topo map. Khazret Sultan is labeled 4643.3 but Alpomish is not surveyed I’ve been planning to climb Khazret Sultan every summer since 2019, but it never worked out. I always planned to tag it on at the end of another expedition but usually ran out of time. Finally in 2023 I again planned again to tag in on at the end of another expedition. I would climb my remaining snow leopard peaks Korzhenevskaya and Kommunizma in Tajikistan, then afterwards if I had time I’d go in with Andreas to climb Khazret Sultan. Since I’d already be in Tajikistan and the best route was from the Tajikistan side it should be straightforward. Before the trip, though, Andreas noticed open street map showed a peak called Alpomish with a higher elevation about 6km south of Khazret Sultan on the Tajikistan-Uzbekistan border. I found Gaia had similar results. I researched all topographic maps based on ground surveys of the area and purchased the relevant maps from mapstor.com. The 1981 soviet map was the only one with enough detail to show both peaks and appears to be the last ground survey conducted in the area. Interestingly, while the map had a spot elevation of 4643m on khazret sultan, there was no spot elevation for Alpomish. The topo lines for Alpomish showed it slightly shorter. But with no spot elevation for the summit that means the summit was not directly surveyed and the topo lines for the peak are just approximate. We then looked at satellite based measurements (SRTM) from google earth. The highest elevation points on each peak were exactly the same to the nearest meter. SRTM can have high errors up to 16m or more on sharp peaks, so this meant the two peaks were within error bounds of each other based on SRTM. Google maps terrain view had both within the 4600m contours but Alpomish was within a bigger contour. That usually, but not always, means the peak is taller. I believe the open street map, Gaia, and google terrain elevations are using digital elevation models (DEMs) to approximate elevations in between point measurements taken by satellites. They use different models so get slightly different elevations. The problem with the DEMs is that they are just approximations. Unless the satellite measurement sampled the exact summit of alpomish (very unlikely for a sharp peak), then there will always be unknown error in them DEM elevation. This seemed like a very interesting problem to solve. Which peak – Alpomish or Khazret Sultan – is the true country highpoint of Uzbekistan? Based on all existing information it was too close to know for sure. I could think of two ways to figure out the answer. The first was to fly a plane over Alpomish taking Lidar measurements which should be accurate to the nearest foot. That flight is unlikely to ever happen. The second is to go in and take ground measurements of alpomish. That I could do. Over the past year I’ve been acquiring survey equipment and skills that would be perfect for such an expedition. Just this july I finished an extensive survey project to find the true 100 highest peaks in Washington (results available at https://www.countryhighpoints.com/washington-top-100-peaks-updated-list/ ). I’ve conducted over a dozen ground surveys using sight levels, a theodolite, and a survey grade differential gps unit. I could apply those same skills and equipment to survey alpomish. My plan was to bring the differential GPS unit and sight levels to the summit of alpomish. The theodolite would be too heavy. The gps with a one hour measurement should give me an absolute elevation accurate to the within 3cm. As a backup I would use my 5x and 1x 10-arcminute sight levels to measure the angular inclination or declination looking from alpomish to khazret sultan. I could find the horizontal distance between them from Google earth and use trigonometry to find the relative height. I could then add the relative height to the known soviet-surveyed height of khazret sultan to find the absolute height of alpomish. To get more measurements to increase confidence I would then climb khazret sultan and repeat the whole process. I’d take an absolute height measurement with the differential GPS and also take angular measurements from khazret sultan looking back to alpomish. I could again calculate a relative height and use this to find the absolute height of alpomish. Also, if there were any intermediate locations of known elevation from the topo map I could use the sight levels to measure angular inclination up to alpomish and again find an absolute height. Finally, I would bring my handheld garmin 62s GPS for another independent source of height measurements. This has higher error than the differential GPS but could help increase confidence in whether alpomish is taller than khazret sultan or not. Ideally all measurements would agree. The more measurements I take that all agree the more confident I am in the final result. I usual am only comfortable if at least three independent measurements all agree before reporting a summit elevation. This was all a nice plan for surveying alpomish, but the more difficult part would likely be actually climbing it. I spent a lot of time trying to research if there had ever been previous ascents and I couldn’t find any information. We even had russian friends search in russian databases and they didn’t find any reports of ascents or attempts. This was intriguing. The peak had apparently never been surveyed accurately enough to know if it was the country highpoint and had never been climbed. This expedition sounded like true exploration. For better or worse with no beta or even pictures of the mountain I decided to come prepared for the worst. I would bring a full climbing rack with doubles of the intermediate pro, rock shoes, 60m rope, crampons, ice ax, and screws. I knew khazret sultan had a bit of rock climbing and was nearby so it was a good guess that alpomish might also involve rock climbing. We could make out glaciers at the base of alpomish from the satellite images so there was a good chance there might also be snow and ice climbing. Satellite images couldn’t really show if the peak was technical or not, though. With so much uncertainty in the route we decided to build in quite a few buffer days. We decided on one day to circumnavigate the peak to assess the best route and two days to climb the route. Then we gave ourselves two days to climb khazret sultan in case that had difficult route finding. We knew from Pat’s beta the best way in to khazret sultan was starting in sarytog village. However, it was unclear what the best way was to get from there to alpomish. I researched that there exists a trail over Mura pass nearby. That connects to an adjacent valley which would eventually lead up to alpomish. But it was very indirect – about 20 miles from khazret to alpomish. I played around a lot on Google earth and it looked like there was another option to climb up to a glacier up the valley from khazret sultan and cross a pass above that. Then we could try to stay high and cross one more glacier pass to get to the base of alpomish. That route was half the distance but there was more uncertainty in whether it would work. We decided to go for it, though, to save time. We probably had enough technical gear to make it work. So the full itinerary with all the buffer days added up to nine days. With all the climbing gear, survey equipment, and nine days of food that would make for very heavy packs. To help a bit we planned to climb alpomish first and cache extra food on the way in at the turnoff for the khazret sultan valley. I would bring an ursack so animals couldn’t get into our cached food. I liked going for alpomish first because it was the biggest prize, was the main objective for the trip, had the most uncertainty, and was the farthest away. Thus it made sense to prioritize. If we managed to climb alpomish, then khazret sultan would be easy to finish on in comparison. With the trip fully planned we started out on our primary expedition to finish the snow leopard peaks. We started by acclimating on Bazarduzu, the Azerbaijan highpoint, then flew to Tajikistan and moskvina glade basecamp in late July. Over the next few weeks we successfully climbed Pik Korzhenevskaya and Pik Kommunizma/Ismoil Somoni, finishing the snow leopards on Aug 16. Pik Kommunizma/Ismoil Somoni, Tajikistan highpoint and final snow leopard peak The next helicopter out of basecamp wasn’t scheduled until aug 26, but it turned out a group of climbers had arranged for a medical evacuation flight on aug 19. One of them had taken a fall and needed to go to the hospital. Helicoptering out of basecamp They were nice enough to let us squeeze on the flight, though we had to bribe the pilot to accept (even though the flight was completely paid for by the climbers’ insurance). We were lucky enough to fly all the way to dushanbe on aug 19, a full week ahead of schedule! This gave us plenty of time for our bonus objectives of alpomish and khazret sultan. The climber ended up being ok after visiting the hospital. Back in town with internet access we bought flights home for early september and took a full rest day to buy food for our next trip and repack. Then we were ready to go. Aug 21 After two nights at the Green House Hostel we left our extra gear stored and headed out in a taxi at 8am. Lucky for us our trailhead town Sarytog is located near Iskanderkul, a big lake in the mountains that is a popular tourist destination. So transportation would be easy. We paid $80 for the ride which went due north of dushanbe into the mountains. We stopped for an early lunch of sashleek along the way and made it to sarytog by noon. The road on our intended route appeared to continue past the village, but it was rough and our taxi driver was not interested in proceeding. So he dropped us off at the edge of town. We took down his WhatsApp number in case we wanted to call for a ride back, but didn’t want to arrange anything in advance. There was too much uncertainty in the trip timing. We could get lucky and finish early (unlikely) or need more time and stretch our food and get back late. We figured most likely we could just ask around in town whenever we got back and someone would be happy to make some extra money and drive us to dushanbe. Andreas stashed some flip flops in the bushes (a good idea I should have also done) then by 1230pm we started walking. For the first hour we walked along a gravel road out of town along the south side of the Capomok river. The road would be passable to a normal car most of the way. Halfway we passed a set of buildings and volleyball net that was labed Camp Archa the meadows on Gaia. I think this is a popular weekend destination for campers from Dushanbe. Hiking up the valley from Sarytog The road ended at the confluence with the Mura river and we stayed on the east side going up river on a decent trail. It got narrow in a few places on steep side slopes but was generally very good. We stopped for a brief break at the small village of Sarikhodan. This was at the turnoff for Mura pass. The village was only six small rock structures and I think the villagers are mostly shepherds in the area. From there we continued on good trails on the east side until we reached the dikondara confluence. On our map it looked like the west side was easier travelling, so we decided to cross. It wasn’t too bad – we just took of our shoes and waded through the shin deep cold water. Crossing the Dikondara river On the other side the river edge cliffed out but we hiked high on sheep trails and mostly had easy strolls through meadows. After the cliff section I noticed a wood bridge down at the river. We would keep that in mind for the return if needed. We continued through easy meadows on sheep trails until 6pm when we reached our planned cache location at the turnoff for the khazret sultan valley. There we waded across to the south side of the dikondara and found a good boulder to cache our food under. It would be easy to identify since there was a sheep carcass next to it. We continued a little farther to a nice flat meadow and pitched our tent there for the night. I boiled water in a tea kettle we’d bought in dushanbe since our reactor stove had gotten left at moskvina basecamp. The evening was surprisingly windy and we hoped it wouldn’t be like that for the summits. Camp at the turnoff for the khazret sultan valley Meteorologist Chris Tomer was continuing to send us daily forecasts to my inreach as he had done for korzhenevskaya and Kommunizma and it looked like the next few days would be good summit days. Aug 22 Our objective for the next day was to make it to the base of alpomish, about 10 miles away. It didn’t seem like a long day so I didn’t set an alarm. Around 7am we were woken up by a big dog poking his nose inside the tent! He soon left and I stuck my head out to see a shepherd on a donkey heading up the khazret sultan valley. He soon tied up the donkey and continued on foot. I suspect he was checking on some cows that we would later see grazing up there. Hiking up to the grassy cirque above camp He just happened to tie up the donkey next to our cached food and I was a bit nervous the dog might smell it and dig it out of the rocks I’d piled up. So I walked up there and moved the ursack to a different boulder closer to our tent. I figured the shepherd would assume it was related to the people in the tent and not mess with it. We soon packed up and continued up the valley. We followed sheep trails into a big basin with glaciers visible above then headed steeply up the right side. We found as long as there was grass there would be trails to follow, so we stuck to the grassy slopes as much as possible. We eventually ran out of grass and followed talus to the toe of the westernmost glacier in the basin, closest to the Uzbek border. The pass above the glacier is labelled pass 2 on gaia (but in russian/cyrillic). The glacier crossing to access the next valley The glacier was low angle enough and the ice/snow soft enough that we were able to continue all the way to the pass above around 4000m without putting on crampons. Interestingly I saw what looked like old sheep poop in some places and the pass had a small cairn. It appears shepherds must occasionally use that pass as a shortcut between valleys without needing to go all the way down to Mura pass. That’s pretty much exactly what we were doing too. It was very satisfying that all my research on Google earth had been accurate and the route had worked to the pass so far. The other side was low angle as I expected and we easily descended the scree and talus slopes to the next basin below. From there we traversed around the base of a ridge on 3rd class ledges to gain the next basin to the south. We crossed talus fields there to reach the toe of the largest glacier on the west end of the basin. The next glacier pass to cross This glacier was a bit steeper than the previous one and would likely require crampons to walk directly over. But there was a scree slope on the right side that looked doable. I was a little lazy about putting on crampons so opted for the scree slope. We made good progress and were soon at the pass. Surprisingly there was another cairn there. Perhaps shepherds use that pass too to get between valleys. We took a break at the pass and I noticed a formidable looking peak looming above to the southwest. It was composed of four steep spires like fingers sticking up from a hand. It was in the general direction of Alpomish. Andreas was skeptical that it was alpomish and I was hopeful it wasn’t since it looked really hard. We decided to get to our planned basecamp before worrying about it. From camp we could be certain which peak was alpomish. First view of alpomish From the pass we descended scree slopes then traversed around the ridge extending east from alpomish. We crossed some talus fields and eventually reached the small tarn at 3975m I had planned as our bacamp. The camp was perfect, and one of the most scenic I can remember camping at. The toe of a glacier ended in a tall ice cliff with waterfalls pouring into the tarn. The tarn had icebergs floating inside and was surrounded by boulders except for the southwest side which had a sandy beach next to the outflow. We pitched our tent on the beach by 6pm. Above us loomed Alpomish at the head of the unnamed glacier, as we verified on our map. For better or worse it was the same four-finger mountain we’d been intimidated by before. Now it looked even steeper. At basecamp for Alpomish It reminded me a lot of the east face of Mt Whitney in the Sierra nevada mountains of california. There was a huge granite face for each of the four spires. The left most (southern most) spire clearly looked the tallest, and I verified this with my sight levels. There was no obvious easiest way up and I was happy to have brought all the climbing gear. We would certainly need it. The next day was a planned scouting day and I hoped we could find some weakness in the peak once we walked closer for a better look. It was too late in the day to get any meaningful scouting in before dark though. But, I could get our first altitude measurement. I knew the altitude of the tarn from our topo map and could calculate the distance to the peak from gaia. Nice campsite by the tarn I measured angular inclinations using my 5x and 1x sight levels and got consistent results of 19 deg 50min. I calculated that alpomish was then between 4660m – 4670m tall. (There was a bit of uncertainty in the exact distance to the peak based on the topo lines on the map and this translated to uncertainty in altitude). That was significantly taller than khazret sultan! It was an intriguing result and already consistent with altitudes on gaia and open street map. I hoped I could get more measurements to increase confidence in the results. Sunset soon came and we went to bed. The forecast was for a sunny morning but slight chance of afternoon snow showers the next day, so we see our alarms to get up early. Approaching the east face of Alpomish Aug 23 We were up at sunrise and moving by 6am, ready for a potentially big day. The official plan was to do a scouting trip circumnavigating the mountain to look for a good route up. But we would bring all our climbing and surveying gear just in case we saw a good route to try that day. From camp we immediately got on the glacier and started walking towards the peak. As we got closer the features became easier to make out. The direct east face looked like good rock with cracks but would be very long. A gully went up to the left skyline which might work. There was a saddle to the right we could possibly use to get around to the back side of the peak. The rightmost spire looked like the easiest and maybe we could traverse from there to the summit. But that would require climbing the two intermediate spires which looked tough. Looking back towards camp There was a big gully leading up to the notch between the summit and the next spire to the right. From the notch to the summit looked short and doable. If that gully was scree or third class maybe the peak actually wouldn’t be too tough. We decided to go for the gully since it seemed like a reasonably high chance of success. Of course there could have been an even better way on the back side but we decided to gamble and try to go for the summit then instead of continuing scouting. This also had the advantage that we wouldn’t have to sneak over to the Uzbek side of the border, though I’m pretty sure that part of the border doesn’t get patrolled. Looking up at the east face We found an icy snow ramp at the base of the gully and cramponed up until the snow ran out at a slabby construction. We made a somewhat sketchy scramble up to scree slopes then traversed left onto third class blocks. The gully wrapped around to the left above us and we thought it looked all melted down to scree, so we ditched crampons and ice axes there. We continued up on third class blocks on the left side then met chossy scree up higher. We soon met a split with the left gully blocked by a huge chock stone. I guess that wasn’t too surprising in these kind of gullies. A right gully looked open and it was tempting to think it provided a way around the chockstone, but in my experience I judged that extremely unlikely. That gully most likely just led up to the notch between the next two spires. Climbing the east gully We climbed up to the chockstone and I saw light underneath, but it was too small of a hole to wriggle through. We would have to climb around. I changed into my climbing shoes and stashed my boots and poles and racked up. Luckily there was a crack on the face to the right that looked doable. Andreas belayed me up the face as I zippered it up with gear. At the top it turned into an overhang and I traversed left delicately on a steep slab to at last reach the top of the chockstone. I continued a little higher on scree to build a good anchor on the wall on the right. The pitch was about 5.7. Looking down from above the chockstone pitch Andreas didn’t bring rock shoes so climbed in hiking boots. I think the traverse was a bit trickier but he made it up fine. Above us we scrambled a little ways up chossy rock then encountered a constriction with a small waterfall in the middle. That was nice there was water to drink, but it meant there was probably ice and snow above us we hadn’t planned on. The constriction was steep and exposed so we decided to pitch it out. I led up again, managing to mantle up on the right side of the water to stay dry. Above it I climbed another small steep bit to an anchor on the left wall where the terrain turned back to scree. The pitch was 5.7. I belayed andreas up and then we noticed above us was a huge mass of ice filling the gully all the way up to the notch. If we could reach the notch the summit looked attainable. But we had ditched our crampons and ice axes. We would have needed technical tools and technical crampons and more ice screws anyway to make it up that. Ice leading up to the notch We optimistically scrambled up to the base to get a better look anyway just in case we could climb rock on the edge. But it was no use. We’d have to find a different way up. It looked like the only option was to move onto the face on our left and climb the remaining distance. Fortunately the rock looked protectable and climbable. Climbing the east face We descended back to my previous anchor on the left wall and I started up. I was able to follow ramps and ledges up to a nice ledge above for a 5.4 pitch. Andreas soon followed. Above that I tried to continue on ledges facing the gully but they got steeper and I needed to make a few stemming moves with an overhang to my left. I surmounted the overhang but then opted to traverse left to a ridge crest with a good belay ledge. That pitch was 5.7. Climbing the east face It looked like staying on the rock facing the gully was not going to work and we’d have to move farther left onto the main east face. The next pitch would be the crux of the route. I climbed a steeper 5.8 crack directly up the ridge crest. I poked my nose over to the right but it looked tough. So I instead made a delicate traverse left into a cleft. Shortly below me the cleft led to an overhang with extreme exposure but above looked doable. I made a few more moves to a ledge and belayed Andreas up. I think the delicate traverse was again tricky in hiking boots. Starting the final pitch From that belay I could see the summit, but the direct east face looked smooth and tough. I continued up the cleft and managed to cross back right to the rock facing the gully. There I found nice ledges and ran the rope out to its end for a 5.5 pitch. Finally the summit looked attainable! From that ledge I climbed directly up to the summit ridge behind a spire and crossed to the other side. I wove the rope around horns and followed the final knife edge ridge to at last reach the summit at 4pm. The final pitch was 5.5. Andreas on the final knife edge ridge to the summit ‍ I tagged the summit, which was a sharp bit on the knife edge. Then I downclimbed to a small boulder notch below. I slung the boulder and belayed Andreas up. Our route up alpomish Miraculously the predicted afternoon snow never materialized and we were treated to partly cloudy skies, warm temperatures, and no wind. It was a perfect summit day. We took a bunch of pictures and I looked over to the west side of the peak into Uzbekistan. Interestingly, it looked like glacier ice extended all the way up to the notch from that side. The rock between the summit and notch just looked like a few pitches and not too steep. So in theory if climbers came early season from the Uzbekistan side maybe they could just walk up snow to the notch and climb a few rock pitches to the summit. On the summit I soon brought out the survey gear and started setting up. I first made a quick verification with the sight level that all nearby spires of the peak were shorter, which was indeed true. We were definitely on the highest point. Then I got out the tripod, mounted the antenna and plugged in the differential GPS. I had a bit of trouble mounting the antenna somewhere so it could stand vertical and i eventually put it as high as I could between a boulder and the knife edge ridge. It needed to stand vertical for ideally one hour, so it didn't make sense for me to just hold it. I started logging data but it had trouble acquiring satellites for some unknown reason. I turned on my garmin 62s handheld unit and it was able to acquire satellites in the same location. Perhaps the boulder obstruction was an issue, but there weren't many options up there for mounting the device. Setting up the differential GPS unit near the summit I played around with settings a bit and finally decided to just let it take whatever measurements it could and I would try to process them later. I cursed myself for not taking test measurements on the way in, but it had worked fine on my last trip in Washington. It's possible the issue was related to me being outside the US. I was happy I had backup measurement equipment though, which would still suffice for measuring the altitude of alpomish in case the differential GPS didn’t work. I then took out my 5x and 1x sight levels and pointed them towards khazret sultan as verified by gaia. With each sight level I measured 10-20min angular declination looking down at khazret sultan. Clearly khazret sultan was shorter. Andreas on the summit I also noted altitude measurements from the garmin 62s and from my garmin fenix 6 watch after gps calibration. We hung out on top until 5pm taking measurements but then had to get down. I hadn’t found any evidence of anchors or cairns or any human presence so it seemed very likely we had made the first ascent of alpomish. Anyone else climbing such a technical peak would likely have rappelled off, but we saw no rap anchor evidence. I had come prepared with a lot of rap gear, though, and was experienced making rap anchors from my big wall climbing expeditions in the northwest territories, canada. View from the summit I slung a rock horn near the summit, backed it up with a cam, and started down. We only had a 60m rope so would need to make a lot of rappells (I wished then that we’d brought twin ropes, but that would have been heavier to hike in with). I planned to rap directly back into the gully since that would be shorter than our ascent route and hopefully require leaving less gear on the mountain. We couldn’t rap directly to the notch, though, since it looked too sketchy to then get down the steep ice without crampons. So I planned to do diagonal rappels until we were clear of the ice, then rap straight down. It’s a little bold to rap down a face we hadn’t climbed up, but it looked featured enough that I could probably make enough anchors. Looking at khazret sultan I rapped down diagonally and found another good horn at a good ledge to sling. I built the next anchor, then Andreas followed. I again made another diagonal rappell on ledges and again found another good horn to sling. Horns are great because I just have to leave some cord as an anchor. I’d brought 30m of 5mm cord for this purpose and it was relatively cheap. Unfortunately one problem with diagonal rappells on loose non vertical terrain is the rope pulls aren’t always smooth. On that pull the rope got caught on a rock and when I yanked it the fist sized rock dislodged from about 20ft above us. It grazed Andreas on the rear end but he said he was ok. Rapping down I next rapped into an icy gully and over to a ledge on the side. Unfortunately there were no horns. My second choice rap anchor is a two-nut anchor. Nuts are cheap – about $10 a piece – so it’s not too bad to leave a few. And they can be very solid. We were still over the ice so did another diagonal rappell on ledges. Again there were no horns so I had to leave another two-nut anchor. Finally we appeared to be nearly clear of the ice. I next rapped straight down to a ledge just above the ice and found a good horn to sling. Andreas joined and by then it was finally dark enough for headlamps. I think we were pretty efficient at 30min per rap. At the last rope throw the ends reached the bottom of the ice and we were soon safely back on scree in the gully. But we werent quite off the technical section yet. We walked down to the top of the waterfall pitch and I slung another horn. That pitch had seemed long, but by rapping directly down and relying on some rope stretch we just barely reached the scree below the waterfall. Rapping down the final chockstone pitch We then walked to the chockstone and slung a boulder above. That had been a long and indirect pitch too. But, by rapping directly over the chockstone we again barely reached the scree below. Finally by 9pm we were off the last technical section. I switched back to boots and we carefully hiked and scrambled down the chossy gully. After retrieving our stashed crampons we decided to try to avoid down climbing the sketchy slabs to the snow ramp. We instead continued scrambling down the blocky 3rd class stretch. It eventually cliffed out, but we were able to traverse onto the snow ramp at a safe spot. From there we cramponed down in the dark following our ascent route. We finally staggered back to camp at 11pm for a long 17 hour day. Last view before leaving basecamp Aug 24 We were several days ahead of schedule, but Chris forecast bad weather coming in Aug 27 that might leave a foot of snow on the summits for a long time. So we didn’t want to take any rest days to delay things. We allowed ourselves to sleep in, though, and were up and moving by 10am. The goal for the day was to move camp to the base of khazret sultan. All measurements had so far indicated alpomish was significantly taller, but we still wanted to be thorough and get final measurements from the summit of khazret sultan to be absolutely certain with our conclusion. View of alpomish from the hike out. Summit is the left spire We followed the exact same high route crossing the two glaciated passes. At the last pass we started getting snow flurries and by the time we reached our food cache at 430pm there was intermittent drizzle. We were very fortunate that hadn’t happened the previous day on alpomish. Crossing the first glacier pass We took a short break, got a little but of food out of the cache, then started up the khazret sultan valley at 5pm. We had earlier seen the shepherd go up the left side of the river so we stayed on that side too. The trail started good but soon deteriorated. We made slow progress along the steep sidehill full of talus. The light rain made the boulders slippery and we had to be extra careful. Finally we were able to cross to the right side and travel eased. We hiked a chossy slope up to an upper basin then hugged the right side on cow trails in the grass. Ascending the valley towards khazret sultan We reached the end of the grass by sunset and pushed on to a small tarn at 3970m a little farther up where we leveled out a campsite. I had hoped to reach the basin at the base of the khazret sultan route that day so we could scout the route, but it didn’t make sense proceeding in the dark with unknown water source locations. So we slept there for the night. Aug 25 The next day was forecast to be sunny until 11am then increasing chances of snow up to 1 inch on the afternoon. We expected khazret sultan to be mostly 4th class so would hopefully go much faster than alpomish. Starting up the valley at sunrise We were up and moving by 6am, and unfortunately the rocks were all icy. The evening rain had frozen on the rocks overnight. We hoped the sun could de-ice the route by the time we got on it. At the base of khazret sultan We hiked up talus to eventually reach the basin at the base of the southeast face of khazret sultan. From there Pat’s route was to hike up a gully to gain the east ridge, the follow that to the northeast ridge, then follow that to the summit. Hiking up to the northeast ridge This looked pretty circuitous and the ridges looked tough from below. But we optimistically trusted Pat that it was mostly 4th class and went for it. (For reference, Pat has free-soloed big wall routes on half dome in yosemite, so I suspected his 4th class was a bit stiffer than mine). I racked up at the bottom of the gully and we hiked up easy scree and talus to a big notch on the top. From there we turned left and continued up another wide choss gully all the way to a col at the intersection with the northeast ridge. I was amazed how much progress we could make on easy terrain and still not need to do any scrambling. That was not at all obvious from below. Good ledges on the north side. Summit in background We peered over the col at the northeast ridge and were met with a big cliff dropping of to the north basin. The route definitely didn’t go there. Staying on the ridge crest looked technical so we dropped back 10m and traversed across a good ledge below the ridge. We could soon scramble back up to the ridge crest. The crest looked 4th class from there so we scrambled a bit along it. We then moved to the left side and had to wriggle down a chimney to some dirty ledges that dead ended. Looking back along the ridge The terrain looked steep above but that was the only way forward. I switched to climbing shoes but this time kept the boots, crampons, and whippet. I didn’t want to get turned around by snow and ice. I ended up placing just one cam, then crossed the ridge and found a huge ledge system. I belayed andreas up and we packed up the rope. The crux technical section up from the notch From there we scrambled either on ledges to the right of the crest or exactly on the ridge crest. Any rock in the shadows was a bit sketchy since the ice hadn’t yet melted off. So we had to be very careful. We eventually reached a deep notch in the ridge and the terrain above looked technical. The right side of the ridge looked loose, chossy, and icy. I chose to climb directly up the crest from the notch. It was technical but at least not icy. Looking across the north basin I climbed some loose rock below then made a few low 5th class moves to a nice ledge. I noticed a slung boulder there so it appeared we were on the same route others had taken. I don't think this peak sees many ascents, though. I only know for sure of four ascents. I belayed andreas up then started up the next pitch. There was a piton down low, then I climbed a fun 5.7 corner. I eventually pulled myself up onto a pedestal and clipped an existing rap anchor that was a big black 11mm static line. This may have been left by Ginge. Climbing along the northeast ridge at the top of the 5.7 pitch That was the last technical section out of the notch. Andreas belayed me farther on 4th class terrain until I reached a chossy ridge. There we put the rope away and descended slightly to another notch with some snow in it. On the broad foresummit I switched to boots and we continued up choss, then talus, then 3rd class blocks on the other side. We eventually walked up loose slopes to a broad summit. A horn was slung and a sign saying Ucell and a bunch of Russian text hung from it. Slightly farther along the ridge we saw a huge cairn with a bamboo pole sticking out. That looked like the summit. Unfortunately it was along a technical ridge. So I put my rock shoes back on and Andreas belayed me one more pitch to the summit, which I reached by noon. Our route up Khazret Sultan I built an anchor, belayed him over, then we stopped to take in the view. Glaciated rocky technical looking peaks surrounded us. Far below were grassy valleys where sheep likely grazed. It was very scenic. The final pitch to the summit of khazret sultan I looked over towards alpomish and the four spires were meshed into one ridge because of the angle, but the peak location was obvious. I took out my sight levels and measured 10-20 minute angular inclination up to alpomish. This was exactly consistent with my previous measurements and confirmed alpomish is indeed taller than khazret sultan and is the true country highpoint of Uzbekistan. Taking sight level measurements from the summit I also took measurements with my Garmin 62s handheld GPS and my gps calibrated garmin fenix 6. Both measurements had khazret sultan lower so all measurements (ten in all) were consistent that alpomish was the true highpoint. Both on the summit I hadn’t bothered to take up the differential GPS since i hadnt been able to figure out which settings to change to allow it to start acquiring satellites. And khazret sultan already had a very accurate ground survey elevation from the 1981 soviet map. The next spire along the ridge that is the true summit I next took sight level readings of the different spires in the summit area and noticed the sharp spire with bird poop on top farther along the ridge was perhaps a few inches taller than the cairn summit. We each went over to tag it just to be sure. Hiking back from the summit After taking all the measurements and writing them down in my field notebook I belayed andreas back across the ridge. I had instructed him to leave all the pro in on the way over so he could easily reclip on the way back. I changed back into boots and quickly started back down the route. We could see rain in the distance towards Sarytog and a few snow flurries were starting to hit. This was just as Chris had predicted. I knew if the 4th class rock got wet it could get sketchy so we needed to get down asap. Rapping down the notch We scrambled down to the snowy notch then up the choss on the other side. This time we continued scrambling the fourth class ridge along to the top rap anchor. I backed it up then rapped down to the intermediate ledge. We then used the existing anchor there, backed up, and rapped to the notch. It was so much faster with these existing anchors than it had been descending alpomish! Scrambling back along the northeast ridge in deteriorating weather At the notch we packed up the rope and started scrambling. Luckily by then the ice had melted off the rocks on the north side so it felt a bit more secure. But the snow and wind started picking up and the rocks started to get wet. We got to the end of the fourth class section and I built an anchor to rap off the first bit we had pitched out. With the wet rock I decided to pitch out the final fourth class section also. I climbed up the chimney, across the steep ridge, and was finally back to a third class ledge. Final scramble section I belayed Andreas up and we finally packed up the rope for good. It seemed like we’d gotten off the steep part of the route just in time before it got wet. From there we descended easy 3rd class ledges to our stashed hiking poles then scree surfed back to the basin below. We hiked back on talus, reaching our camp by 430pm. The clouds looked very dark down towards Sarytog and it looked like we’d missed the brunt of the precipitation, but the summit still looked windy and snowy. Good views of the dikon glacier below We quickly packed up and headed down. This time we stayed on the left (north) side of the river and were able to follow nice animal trails down. We actually saw a few cows grazing up there. By 7pm we waded back across the river to our previous campsite. We picked up our cached food, set up the tent, and were asleep by sunset. Hiking back to camp Aug 26 The next morning by 630am we waded back across to the west side of the river and followed our ascent route down. Progress was fast and this time we used the bridge to cross back to the east side among a herd of cattle. We had to wade across a few tributaries but mostly followed good trails. At one point a shepherd caught up to us and he seemed amused we were walking instead of riding horses. Camp down in the lower valley He turned off at Sarikonda village while we continued back to Sarytog by 11am. We found the Dornish Guest House there that fed us lunch and one of the owners was able to provide a taxi ride back to Dushanbe. We made it to Dushanbe that afternoon and returned to the Green House Hostel. I was glad we had made it out ahead of schedule since all the next day it rained and thunderstormed in town with widespread flooding nearby. The power was out and running water cut off to the entire city! I heard in the mountains they were getting a foot of snow! The routes up alpomish and khazret sultan probably would be out for a while. Hiking out I later processed my measurements and, based on the angular measurements I took and the known distance between alpomish and khazret sultan, I calculated alpomish is 25m +/-8m taller than khazret sultan. So given khazret sultan has a surveyed elevation of 4643m from the soviet map this means I measured alpomish has an elevation of 4668m +/-8m. This is consistent with the measurements taken from the tarn. This means Alpomish is the true country highpoint of Uzbekistan. After we got back to Dushanbe we had just barely enough time to climb Ayrybaba, the Turkmenistan highpoint. This completed our five-year project to climb the Highpoints of the Stans – the country highpoints of Afghanistan (Noshaq 7493m), Pakistan (K2 8611m), Kygyzstan (Pobeda 7439m), Kazakhstan (Khan Tengri 7000m), Tajikistan (Ismoil Somoni 7495m), Uzbekistan (Alpomish 4668m) and Turkmenistan (Ayrybaba 3139m). Link to more pictures: https://www.countryhighpoints.com/alpomish-uzbekistan-highpoint/ Gear Notes: Standard rack to 3", doubles of intermediate sizes, 60m rope, lots of tat and nuts for rap anchors, glacier gear, survey equipment Approach Notes: From Sarytog village hike up Dikondara river, cross two 4000m glaciated passes near Uzbekistan border, access valley east of Alpomish.

From Aug 20th to 24th Lani Chapko, Nick Gonzalez and I did the first ascent of the direct SE ridge of Seahpo Peak. The SE ridge gains roughly 4400' over around 1.5 miles of horizontal. Jagged Ridge adds roughly another 1.5 miles of ridge traversing. We climbed roughly 30 pitches on the SE Ridge of Seahpo with another 6-8 or so on Jagged Ridge. I would consider the SE ridge a Grade V as a stand alone if a team were to descend the standard route, and while maybe controversial, consider it a Grade VI with its continuation through the Jagged Ridge (Grade V 5.6). We had 18 hours of climbing time on the SE ridge and around 12 hours of climbing time on Jagged, totaling just shy of 30 hrs of climbing time over the course of 3 long days. Lani and I's climbing time on Mongo Ridge was around 17 hours and our non-speed-climber NIAD time last year was 16 hours. While not really relevant, these seem to be common benchmarks that people like to compare to. Photo I found last year from the summit of Icy showing the entirety of the ridge (sorry i don't remember who took it...) Early Attempts: I first spotted the line last year when Joe and I went in to do Spectre. It is a sneaky ridge that is only visible from a fairly narrow window of the North Cascades. We both agreed it looked massive and epic. I convinced Lani to give it an attempt late September. This was a couple weeks after a bad ankle sprain on Jo Berg. We ended up bailing after around 800' of climbing because of extreme heat, dry conditions and mild hallucinations from intense smoke. We approached via the Baker River and Crystal Creek. This year in July we had a window and decided to give it another go. We figured the Baker River approach would not go smoothly so we decided to try a high route approach via the Ruth-Icy traverse. Once at the Icy-Seahpo col we dropped down the head of the Crystal creek cirque and tried to find an access point to the ridge from the north. The climbing looked like 5.10X with minimal anchors, so we ultimately bailed out with the knowledge that we would have to repeat the heinous munge we found on the ridge last year. Day 1: We knew we were heading into dry conditions, so we sought out a third person to join the party to help distribute water weight on the harder climbing near the toe of the ridge. We reached out to Lani's friend Nick the morning of to see if he would be down, and he somewhat reluctantly joined knowing he would be procrastinating some work. The last minute shuffle meant we were in for a bit of a long packing session and late start. We got to the Baker River Trailhead in the mid afternoon and started our approach around 3PM. The approach went smoothly as the Baker River was super low and the crossings were super chill. We again picked up the old trail up crystal creek. We were initially super confused about the existing trail until we consulted with Eric W and learned that there used to be a trail up crystal creek. We got up into crystal creek basin right as it was getting dark and decided to set up camp in the trees just after crossing crystal creek. Near the end of our approach, Nick got stung by a ground wasp and started developing some full body hives. He had previously never been allergic to any kind of stings so this was a new development. Luckily we had just added some Benadryl to the first aid kit. He reacted well to the Benadryl and the hives subsided after around 20 min. Day 2: We started out the day finishing our approach up the crystal creek basin. This involves some mellow, but overhead grassy bushwhacking. When we were here in 2022, there was clear evidence that a ton of bears had trampled the valley. Adding a very eerie feeling to the endeavor. We felt like we were being taunted by Tanuki, hence the name. The climbing on the ridge starts around 2900-3000' depending on how your device is feeling. Once at the base of the ridge again we were back in familiar terrain. Ignorance may have been bliss... The first 1000' of the climb involves some substantial, runout and sometimes challenging munge-a-neering. Lani following one of the 5.9 munge pitches on the first attempt Looking up at the crux munge pitch after bailing on attempt #1 After reaching our high point, we continued questing upward. We had a hunch that we were through the major difficulties of the lower ridge on the first attempt, and luckily that prior assumption was true. 1000' more munge led us to the summit of the first major tower. This tower rises over 2000' over crystal creek basin and feels like a major accomplishment in and of itself. Lani and Nick Following near the top of Tanuki Tower Looking back down at the long scrambling section in the middle of the route After reaching the summit of the first tower, which we later dubbed Tanuki Tower, the ridge eased back for a massive, long section of 3rd and 4th class scrambling, separated by the occasional pitch. We were able to make good time to the base of an obvious gendarme to camp at 6900'. When we arrived at camp we were able to locate a 3rd class access ramp that allowed for access to the glacier on the south side of the ridge. This allowed for a much needed water top off. Future parties could consider gaining the upper (more classic) ridge via this hanging basin and scrambling access ramp to avoid the munge on Tanuki Tower. Looking up at the upper ridge from camp. Day 3: We started by climbing the obvious Gendarme above camp and traversing to the main summit massif and upper ridge. Classic moderate climbing on the Gendarme above camp The upper ridge provided a ton of clean, moderate ridge climbing with a bunch of awesome position and good climbing. Nick leading the upper crux, a clean 5.8+ lieback After a bunch of false summits, gendarme traverses and generally entertaining ridge climbing, we finally found our way to the summit of Seahpo. Stoked on our success we started the debate about continuing. We all had trail runners and light aluminum snow gear. After an hour long debate we decided thin conditions meant we could work around the snow and manage the little that we had to, so we began our committing raps off the summit of Seahpo. We started off with the moderate snow traverse across the glacier to regain the ridge. Conditions were super firm, so while only being around 30 degree traversing terrain, we ended up pitching out this short section. Looking out from the start of the Jagged Ridge Traverse Clean Rock on Jagged Ridge Once back on the rock, we were able to make super quick progress soloing a bunch of 4th class terrain to near the mid point on the Jagged Ridge traverse. There were minimal opportunities for bivies, but we found a reasonable, albeit exposed ledge near the ridge crest. If we would have been able to continue for another 20 min, we would have made to to a kush ledge on the north side of the ridge that would have been sheltered from winds. A nice ledge amongst the choss traversing near the end of Jagged Ridge Day 4: The remaining part of Jagged Ridge was honestly kind of awful without snow coverage. Very loose compact dirt and unstable talus traversing above big exposure. There was the occasional pitch but mostly scrambling. We ultimately made it to the final group of towers that define the exit to the ridge. We didn't really find the "lethal choss chimney" described in other reports, though there was a low angle choss gully with a 5.6 boulder problem around a chockstone. The final pitch to exit was the definitive crux and decent climbing, though a bit steep and committing for 5.6. Once off the traverse, we realized our mistake in equipment selection. It was clear that heading up onto the crystal glacier with so much blue ice exposed would be an awful test of our mediocre snow gear. That and a whiteout shielded the bergshrunds from our vision, so we didn't have a clear view of our exit. Our original plan was to head up and maybe tag the summit pyramid, though we decided to bail onto the slabs below the crystal and sulphide glacier. There was a level of uncertainty with terrain and overhead hazard, though the seracs looked quiet enough to feel comfortable with the traverse. The 2 mile long slab traverse took what felt like days, but we were able to link into the sulphide route right at the standard sulphide camp, avoiding all of the steep exposed ice. We took the slabs just below the snout of the crystal, then back up the rocky passage on the Sulphide Typical terrain on the slabs after a waterfall crossing A quick jaunt down the shannon ridge trail got us back to civilization, but not out of the clear... as we opted not to spend the time to set up a car shuttle. Nick in all of his glory had volunteered to run the shannon ridge trail and road all the way back to baker lake trailhead to shuttle the car, for a total of an 11 mile run to finish off the trip!! Overall, this was a grand journey up one of the largest technical features in the lower 48. I would recommend the whole ridge as an awesome cascadian, blue collar route! Rack: Singles Single Rack to 3 with doubles up to .75, optional KB's, Single 60M Rope A rough track showing our approximate route TH to TH A Close up showing our rough track on route Potential alternate approach tracks; Green showing an early season approach via the Icy-Seahpo col, this route may require some rappels down low angle slabs. Purple being a potential high route that would require a bushwhack up the ridge to the left of Crystal Creek. And Red showing a technical track up low angle waterfall slabs that would access the hanging basin to bypass Tanuki Tower. The two access points (red and purple) seem like equally easy and viable ways to access the ridge.

My friend Danyon and I climbed the NW Face on Little Big Chief last weekend on Aug 27th. This route is referenced as "Falcon Route" on mountain project, although I couldn't find the origin of this name as it is not mentioned in the FA (trip report here on CC: Saturday evening view of the face we were gonna climb: We approached from the Dingford Creek trailhead, which is about 13-14 miles on road/trail to the turn-off for the Summit Chief valley. We turned off the trail a 5 minute walk past the steel bridge referenced on MP and found relatively easy going with minimal bushwhacking up to camp below the NW face of Little Big Chief. Leaving camp at about 5:30 AM we wound our way up the talus, little gulley, and heather ledges to the base of the route, where we racked up for simuling and did the 200-250m of 4th-low 5th in a single simul block. This is roughly the way we went and the pitches aligned closely with the descriptions on MP: Pitch 1 had the promised undercling that must be traversed to the right, a good marker that you are at the right spot on the route, just left of of the big vertical "chimney" that splits the face. From here, we followed a groove on pitch 2: To easier ground on pitch 3 (trending up and slightly right along the crest of a convex feature) to the base of the headwall above. We found pitch 3 to be littered with a lot of death blocks sitting on the lower angle rock which we had to carefully maneuver around. A widening crack got us up the bottom of the headwall (P4): The pitches above (5,6) looked good at a distance but also had a lot of loose rock and some death blocks we had to work around. From there, we climbed up and right on easier ground over a bunch of choss covered ledges and one final pitch of ~5.7 climbing to gain the ridge. From there, we were a short distance from the summit, which we reached about 3:30pm. The MP description said to descend the ridge to the south from there. Definitely DON'T do that as that way looks extremely steep, loose, and uncertain. Instead, we descended to the north and followed the north ridge back down to Dutch Miller gap. This descent had 2 rappels from the summit on existing tat, followed by going along some easy heather ledges to skiers left to get to the north ridge. From there we easily scrambled down the ridge, where one airy step is passed by using another established rappel station. After that, it is all non-technical scrambling/walking down to Dutch Miller gap, from where we had to loop back around the trail and up to camp (had we known we would descend all the way to Dutch Miller gap we would have camped by the main trail rather than camping by the base of the NW face). As it was, we reached camp at 9pm, hiked part way out to the horse camp near the Hardscrabble Lakes trail turnoff and bivied there (1am-4am) for a few hours before getting up early Monday morning to hike out the rest of the way and go to work. Hopefully this beta helps someone. Overall, a pretty cool climb although it had more loose rock than we were hoping for and I would be wary of that. If you decide to climb it, definitely DO NOT do it under another party, be very careful about picking your belay stances to shield the belayer from rockfall above, and plan on descending to Dutch Miller gap. We brought the following gear: 60m rope 1x BD 0, 0.1, 0.2, 2x 0.3-#2, 1x #3 A set of pitons (never used, leave these at home) A set of nuts (never used)

Trip: Bearpaw Mountain and Church Mountain - Uh, whatever Trip Date: 08/19/2023 Trip Report: Looking for an easier day after some hard trips and also breaking in a new partner I settled on the very much discussed but seldom climbed Bearpaw Mountain, with a side of Church on the way out. We quickly hiked up the Church Mountain trail then at the meadow turned up slope and went cross-country crossing over several ridges towards Bearpaw Mountain. The final scramble of Bearpaw is a couple moves of easy class 3 along the ridge, there is a trail from the saddle above Church Lake. The entire area was devoid of humans, very pretty, and lots of fun cross-country rambling, generally very easy. We discovered a surprising and very distinct outcrop of limestone that is very interesting and just rock is not common in the North Cascades. After Bearpaw we decided to take the easiest line and dropped to Whistler Lake, passing several lakes and wandering around the meadows at around 5600 ft. From kidney lakes we ascended to the notch on East Ridge of church mountain and joined the standard scramble route. I haven't done this in many years and summer conditions and it was a bit more complicated than I remembered but still not more than class 3. After the summit we headed down the standard route, over the church lookout, and down the trail to the car. The whole trip took 9 hours over about 13 mi and 6, 000'. It was a great day out in our mountainous backyard (for Bellinghamsters) in an area that I've talked about going to for years but never gotten around to doing. More of a cross-country high route days and actual peaks but very enjoyable! I did this TR on my phone and can't figure out how to put spaces between the photos, it's not actually one vertical panorama. Note: this whole report took me about 10 minutes, so let's see your reports! Gear Notes: Trail shoes. Poles. Approach Notes: Church Mountain trail. Made it to the trailhead in a Pontiac Sunfire, the creek crossing required some driving skill.

Trip: Glacier Peak - Frostbite Ridge Trip Date: 08/18/2023 Trip Report: North Face of Dakobed Solo (4th AI2 Steep Snow) I had been eyeing this route all summer and finally the weather and ice conditions lined up for an attempt. The varied terrain felt like a good alpine test piece for me. Day 1: Frostbite Ridge (Kennedy Glacier Approach) Day 2: Descent via Gerdine Ridge Direct/Disappointment Peak Cleaver Started the day at 3:01am from the North Fork Sauk Trailhead weaving through the forest by headlamp. Thoughts of rogue black bears and mountain lions were looming as it tried to keep about a 3mph pace. After about 3 hours and several water stops I made it to the PCT N-S junction. I tried my hardest this time to hydrate the day before and during the approach to be able to save on water consumption at the top and on the descent. The trail then continues on the PCT heading N over a ridge towards portal peak. Eventually descending to a beautiful meadow before being swallowed by the forest. I made it to Fire Creek Pass at 1130am, stopped for lunch and to fill up on water, the taste of a fresh roast beef sandwich while deep in the wilderness was pretty primal. At 12 I left the PCT up the Glacier Creek drainage for some light bushwhacking. Soon I gained the ridge that overlooks the remnants of the Kennedy glacier and saw the bivy site everyone mentions. This would be a good stopping point (about 22 miles in) but i knew a summit bivy would make this climb more special. The climb up the left side of the stream was half ultra loose rocks and dirt and moraine covered remnants of the glacier. Rockfall on the left and seracs on the right. pick your poison here. I followed the rocks on the edge of the ice for what felt like forever until finally putting my crampons on at the foot of the glacier. It looked like a bomb went off here, glacier broken to pieces, rocks everywhere, and somehow the loose rocks even had dirt and smaller rocks on top of them too. Had to zig-zag across the glacier to find connected pieces, moved slowly and deliberately through here. Only had to really step on 2 snow bridges, the rest was connected ice of the glacier. Eventually the glacier joins with Frostbite ridge where I left my crampons on and pretended this was like DC. This “Ridge” is simply a pile of scree, every step felt like walking in ankle deep powder and dislodged tons of debris. Struggled up the ridge, broke a trekking pole, and finally got on the little knife edge under the “rabbits dick”. Every step here raining rocks down both sides of the ridge. Really glad i was the only person out here for this section. Finally got to the feature and took the recommended bypass to the left across the steep snow slopes. This section was quite exposed and the wind blown neve was fun to climb. Finally got to the rabbits ears. The downclimbing here was way less sketchy that i thought it was going to be. Simple scrambling down to the steep snow field traverse, running water here. Motored up the upper Kennedy glacier and traversed around a hole to get to the ridge above. Then the unnamed headwall came into view, glowing in the evening sunshine. Sharing a sunset with the North Face of most remote Cascadian Volcano was special. I was racing the sun at this point, it was beginning to set and I only had about an hour to make it to the top before it was going to be getting dark. The base of the head wall was all exposed ice, all the snow was gone. I climbed the first ice step in the sunset, and on the ledge feature that splits the headwall the sun went down. Almost every stick was a hero swing, maybe 1/10 shattered some surface rot. The ice was steep enough that you couldn't walk up it, definitely at least AI2, but also had lots of features to rest on if you needed. I got some sweet gopro footage of the climb that shows the conditions/difficulty encountered. https://youtu.be/lv3px5eKino?si=-lHOC3Eju77gPPuO Climbed the second step and topped out at 830pm. I crested the snow dome in the back using both my axes as canes and out of breath from racing the sun up the headwall. I was completely worked but the summit was just steps away on a rock formation to the right. I got to sign the register in the last rays of sun for the day. Magical. It was incredibly windy, maybe 40+ mph gusts, and afterwards I retreated to the bivy site and set up my bag in the howling wind with shaking hands. I didn’t end up eating my dehydrated meal because boiling water in this wind was going to virtually impossible with a Jetboil. I settled for a pop tart and fell asleep to the whipping sound of my bivy sack in the wind. Woke up around 1am and it was dead silent, poked my head out of the bag and the vast array of stars greeted me. Just the starlight was bright enough that I didn't need a headlamp to see around me. I slipped in and out of sleep until finally getting up at 630am to pack up. Chatted with a nice guy who made it to the summit for sunrise and got some beta for the scramble. I started the descent at 7am and made it to the car at 4:15ish. Opted for the loose scramble on disappointment peak since the Cool Glacier looked completely shattered and apparently the downclimbing isn’t that bad. I figured if there is an option to avoid soloing a glacier it should be taken. Some super chill people gave me cliff bar at the campsites by the base of the Gerdine Ridge, this was much needed as I just ate my last stinger moments before. If i thought Kennedy Glacier looked like it got carpet bombed, then the south side of the mountain looks like its been through a nuclear blast. The shattered landscape seemed to stretch on forever, but the occasional wildflower was nice to see. Doing this big lollipop loop had such varied terrain which added to the classic feel. It was also interesting/sad to see how much the ice/snow has receded from past trip reports on here. This felt like a blue collar Mt Olympus, a little more rugged but overall similar vibes. Instead of finishing with mellow rock climbing, you finish with mellow ice climbing. Instead of a pristine NP trail to get to the glacier, you have PCT linked to a bushwhack chossfest. Instead of paved NP roads, you have the 10 mile potholed forest service road. No Cascades alpine ascent is truly complete without a margarita and Carne Asada stop at Dos agaves in Darrington. Gear Notes: 2 tools made sense for me since I'm not a super strong ice climber. Unsung hero was the bag of salt and potassium i brought. Packing List: https://lighterpack.com/r/0phmnc Approach Notes: Stats: 36hr51m c2c, 17.5hr car to summit Tracks: https://www.alltrails.com/explore/recording/afternoon-hike-a62344a-60

Trip: Columbia Peak - West Ridge Trip Date: 09/02/2023 Trip Report: Every 20 years, the classics probably need to be repeated. And, as I was reminded Saturday, the west ridge of Columbia is a classic Cascadian scramble. It has many good ingredients: a bike portion to keep the masses away (~8 miles RT-bring full suspension for the cushy experience); decent trail to access the alpine without bush bashing (Poodle Dog pass/Twin Lakes trails); enough real scrambling to get your attention on the way up and down (short bit of 4th and a good amount of 3rd); and a commanding viewpoint of the central Cascades (pictures below). A great day out, all in all! A funny aside- on the way up, quite high near the summit (not the two ladies in the comments below that I ran into in the morning), I ran into a couple of young mountain runner dudes on their way down. I was traveling in the opposite style- I had my typically bigger than I need pack, large camera, and yellow pad. In short, a dead giveaway. "Are you @JasonG?" A classic Cascadian trail scene: Wilman's Spires and Peak. Worth climbing all of them! Twin Lakes, Spire Mountain and Gunn Peak: South to Daniel and Hinman from the summit of Columbia: The view SE: NE to Dakobed, Monte Cristo, and Kyes Peaks: Dakobed and Monte Cristo: Columbia Peak. West ridge is the prominent spur that descends down and left from the summit. Easier than it looks! Glacier Basin Peaks from the trail down from Poodle Dog Pass: I was amazed that I had the only bike locked to the rack in Monte Cristo. Don't forget this key piece of gear! Gear Notes: bike, helmet Approach Notes: old road to monte cristo, trail to twin lakes, and then up!

Trip: Canadian Rockies - Feeling down? Like you're in a Black Hole? I've got a solution for you: Go on an Athabasca Bar Crawl! Trip Date: 08/14/2023 Trip Report: Dallin Carey and I took the gear to go see about the North Ridge of Mt. Columbia. We were attempting to repeat this itinerary by Colin and Ian, albeit in much warmer/drier weather. Long story short, everything took longer than anticipated, there was much less snow/ice than anticipated, and we ended up doing the coolest backpacking trip of my life around some of the most incredible mountains on the continent. It was awful, but in a really good way. Day 1 - We got a later than anticipated start and hiked up and over Wooley Shoulder. Pretty much every source from climbers we could find just says "go up and over" with no mention of the shenanigans involved. This is only 5ish miles... It's also 4.5k' vert, involves wading a very cold Sunwapta River at the start, traveling over multiple glacial moraines and up some steep and exposed scree. We thought it would take us 3-4 hrs, but it took us 6 and involved some harrowing traversing on atrocious scree by headlamp. We didn't sleep until after midnight. Day 2 - We figured we had plenty of time to get to and up onto the N Ridge. Colin made it sound easy; how hard could it be? We started by traipsing through Sound of Music-esque meadows towards the North Face of North Twin. The topo maps were not revealing of the topography below and Colin's TR didn't mention this... maybe it didn't seem like a big deal since he was just hanging with a super-loc/guide who'd been that way before. Anyway, the meadows ended with a cliff of choss and a whole bunch of f*&%ery dropping thousands of feet down scree and forest to the raging torrent through more old glacial moraines that is Habel Creek... this is the actual Black Hole of legend. We wasted a good while figuring all this out and after down climbing, shwacking, and scree sliding we emerged creekside where the water pours out of the glaciers. Now we only had to wade the cold water, climb over more glacial moraines, and bushwhack out the creek, dropping another 2k' vert to the Athabasca River. This 4.5 mile section from our campsite to the Athabasca, which was entirely down hill, took us almost 6 hrs. I think I could shave an hour or two off this time with perfect beta, no more. As we emerged into the Athabasca River Valley, Habel Creek spread out over its alluvial fan creating swamps deep into the forest. We were wading through ice cold water filled with silt and simultaneously bush whacking. Breaks on gravel bars finally showed our route... no snow in the lower snow gully, bare ice on the lower snow field, massive black schrunds guarding the top, no ice or snow in the Scottish gully, big icy seracs overhead, and no snow at all on the ridge: climate change sucks a big one. It did not inspire confidence. Finally, while shwacking through more icy swamp water and having made 400m of progress in the last 30 minutes we decided to pull the plug. The N Ridge is probably the easiest(???) exit from the upper Athabasca to get over the Columbia Icefield and back to the car, we were well behind schedule and the likelihood of getting up the route was looking somewhere between Certain Death and Russian Roulette. We really didn't want to go back over Wooley Shoulder for a variety of reasons so Dallin suggested we could just follow the Athabasca River all the way out to the road... It's only 20+ miles of river walking, mostly with no trail. That sounded lovely, which gives you an idea of how totally F'd the other stuff was. We started wading back across Habel Swamp (as we had dubbed it), emerging on to gravel bars and made decent progress, walking/wading/schwacking in a much more leisurely manner until it was almost dark and we found a nice campsite on a gravel bar in the river. Day 3 - This day was delightful and felt like a pleasure cruise... If you consider constant glacial river wading up to your waist, swamp wading, moose/bear track following, and bushwhacking to be easy while carrying an alpine climbing pack and being swarmed by mosquitoes and horse flies. The average American would probably just lay down and die; a PCT thru hiker would probably declare us insane and never go back... but we did genuinely enjoy ourselves... though I still might not ever go back willingly. We finally stumbled out of the brush onto the so-called Chaba Cabin Trail and had a mere 12km of rolling single track to hike back to the Sunwapta Falls TH. A delightful young woman named Pam let us cram in the back of her live-in van (despite our stench and grime) for the 20 miles back down the Parkway to Dallin's truck. We then had to wade the Sunwapta twice at 8:30pm to retrieve our running shoes from the first day, which left us mildly hypothermic, and then the adventure was truly over. We cooked dinner at 9pm in the Ice Fields Visitor Center parking lot and watched rich old people sip their zina on the balcony of the $40 entree restaurant as the alpenglow faded over the Athabasca Glacier, which we had envisioned ourselves triumphantly descending after our rad send. Such is the roller coaster of life. Gear Notes: Light-weight running shoes for hiking were clutch. We did not use the tools, pons, rope, pins, cams, nuts, slings, or screws in any way. The boots were on my pack for all but the few miles up and over Wooley. In Colin's TR he hiked in his underwear as I understand he does from time to time to save weight. I cannot recommend this strategy in this terrain due to the sea of scabbed-over scratches that now forms the front of my legs, and the sea of massive red insect bite-induced welts that covers the back of them. Let's just say this may well be the first and last annual undies hiking trip for me. And also, screw you Colin! But maybe also thanks, for inspiring an awesome adventure. Approach Notes: Don't trust topo maps, don't trust Colin's TR, don't trust the rock, the scree or the dead trees. Definitely don't trust the deep holes between roots covered in 6" of moss that are totally hidden. Basically, don't trust anything you can touch, they will all betray you. Just become a wild animal, cease all higher levels of thought, and simply exist. This is the way. Pictures: These are mostly taken by Dallin, cause !!NEWS FLASH!! undies don't have pockets. Actually, we discussed in detail how Patagonia should make Colin Haley Limited Edition Approach Undies with pockets. But I probably wouldn't buy them. Well, maybe. Yours truly wading the Sunwapta. Screaming barfies for the feet. Yay. Yours truly approaching Wooley shoulder, Wooley peak behind. Yours truly walking down towards the Black Hole and the North Face of the North Twin. Looks easy, just go over there. Too bad you can't see the massive chasm of glacial, torrential, choss gnar that splits the ground just after the lovely marmot meadows. Almost down into the Black Hole. The moraine in the left foreground gives an idea of what the last bit down to Habel Creek was like. In the Black Hole after fording Habel Creek. Note the thousand foot waterfall getting blown sideways as it falls off the Ice Field. Finally getting views of Columbia. Phones take crap photos but very little snow, lots of exposed ice, more exposed rock. Blah, blah, blah. We are chickens. I have dishonored you Dave Cheesmond. We are unworthy. Forgive us. Let the scenic river cruise begin... The Athabasca Bar Crawl! Miles later this is still the alluvial fan coming out of Habel Creek and the Black Hole. We thought the whole thing was going to be connecting stuff like this. River views back towards Columbia. Dallin avoiding mosquitoes at our camp location for the night. He's wearing full alpine winter kit despite the fact that it's like 70F. Following what we called the Moose Highway. There were clearly many moose. Also bears. We did not see them, thankfully. But their tracks were numerous. Dallin almost stepped on a porcupine the size of a golden retriever. I may be exaggerating that last bit, but it was huge. Dallin at a rest stop on a gravel bar. Kinda speaks for itself. Swimming at a cold lake shortly after hitting the trail. Glory, glory, we are free at last! The lake was pretty. Then we walked a bunch more. Then it was over and we didn't die. The end.

Trip: Austrian Alps - Stubai High Trail Trip Date: 09/05/2023 Trip Report: Over 20 years ago I had personal blog with custom domain name, and posted pictures of what I had going (hiking, climbing, having a kid, etc) and one day I got an email from some Austrian who was looking for a part for his company from a US business that had a domain name similar to my blogs domain name. We had a ton in common, including to him just having a kid as well. Anyway, we chatted a bit and then just stayed in touch over the years, till last year. My son was doing a quarter in Rome, and so I suggested they might meet if it worked out. Turns out his daughter was working and an au pair in Milan, and so they ended up hanging out and then after his quarter was over my son travelled around Europe for a while, ending his trip with a visit to my Austrian friend's home in a little village in the Austrian Alps. I figured it was high time I pay him a visit myself, and so I bought the plane tickets. We weren't sure how to spend my time there, but I suggested hut hiking as I'd never done that. He suggested the Stubai High Trail. So well after 20 years of our first contact a I showed up in Munich and he picked me up. He had to work the first day I was there, so while he worked, I walked from his house over to a trail and climbed the mountain you could see from his kitchen window. I was a great warm up and introduction to hiking the alps, a trail up into the alpine, with a little scrambling, a cable to two, and then a cross at the top....and an insanely beautiful view below. On the hike back down I tore the crap of my feet, getting blisters all over my feet from my climbing boots. After this we went and bought a part of Scarpa approach shoes which I used instead, as we figured out that we wouldn't actually need mountaineering boots for the peaks we would try. We drove to Innsbruck and bought ourselves some jaunty Tirolian hats, and then headed up to Neustift im Stubaital. We parked the car and headed up to the first hut, which gave me an opportunity to get into shape. Was redlining behind my Austrian Machine. Thom is pretty fit, for his 45th birthday he ran in the mountains, doing 26 miles a day for 10 days in row, running from his parent's old village to his own. Our hike that day was only 5k, but gain 4000ft in elevation. The first hut is the Starkenburger Hütte, and as became our custom we celebrated with a couple cold beers. The views from the hut were awesome. The next day, as we tried to do every day, we beat all the rest of our hut-mates to the trail. We climbed some peaks: Gamskogel 2659m, Steinkogel 2589m, Marchsaule 2598m, and Schwarzhorn 2818. These were gained with hiking or minor scrambling. We then dropped back down to the main trail, stopping for a beer and lunch at a sheep herders hut. Then we continue up the valley, which had impressively steep slopes at parts. At one point I was going through a steep gulley which obviously rockfall and heard crack! and saw a grapefruiit sized rock just graze my foot...I was lucky. We continued to Franz-Senn Hutte, which was one of my favorite. The next day we went Franz-Senn Hutte to Neue Regensburger Hutte, which seems out a movie set with a big waterfall just below it. That day we also climbed Östliche Knotenspitze, which is 3101m. It seemed improbable with no gear, but with a few strategic cables and then lots of narrow ledges and some scrambling it went fine. The next day we went from Neue Regensburger to Dresdner Hutte. The Dresdner is located right on a ski run right below the glaciers above. From the Dresdner to the Sulzenauhütte (where we had lunch) to Nürnberger Hütte was the best day for me, though there was not a bad day at all...they were all special and awesome. On this day we went over yet another pass, going by a huge amount big cairns or "hippy stacks" an incredible view of a canyon below that used to house a glaceir as late at the 1950s, but now there is a just a lake....the glaciers had retreated to well above the lake. There was a massive wall of a moraine below. Then down to the Sulzenauhütte and up by the beautiful blue lake....named "Blue Lake". Over a pass we headed down to the Nürnberger Hütte which was another favorite. The next day we went from the Nürnberger to the Bremer Huttle and climbed Innere Wetterspitze at 3053m, which was great fun. The views up there were amazing. The day after that we headed to Innsbrucker Hutte. Our intention was to climb Habicht, another 3000+m peak, but it there was thunder and rain in the morning so the next day we headed up. I can't begin to convey how fun this trip was. My friend Thomas is the nicest guy you could meet. I might as well have been climbing a with a guide (he actually was guide for a while), but what was the best was having a local who pointed out all the local flora and fuana, history, and translate German for me, and basically arranged everything. We saw plenty of herd of goats and sheep high in the alpine trying to escape the heat. This is the time of year they normally bring them down, but it was still so warm they didn't want to come down yet. We saw a pair of Stienbock, which as very cool, and then smell and eventually saw another one that was dead along the trail. We ran into a lot of other Europeans, and shared some of our time on the trail with a couple from Portland. The company and food in the huts was great save the vegetarian fare they served at the Regensburger Hutte, which came out of me in a 3 second burst just below the steep pass you go through to get out of there. I felt immediately better after. The scenery is quite amazing. It is alarming to see how much the glaciers there have receded, they could be gone in 10 years. I took so many photos and videos. Here a few photos. Gear Notes: silk sleeping bag liner. approach shoes. no tent, stove, etc... Approach Notes: south of Innsbruck

I've been reading The Bold and Cold by Pullan after my Rockies trip and it got me thinking about what a similar list would look like for my home range... the Oregon Cascades. For those that don't know, the Bold and Cold is 25 climbs, 5 groups of 5 routes, in the Canadian Rockies. Each group is supposed to be training for the next tier. The list was developed by famous climbs Urs Kallen and Dave Cheesmond. The five categories in the book are: Shakedown Routes, Maiden Routes, Middle Earth Routes, Galdiator Routes, Titans. All the routes are quite serious and the categories progress in commitment, length and remoteness. The crux pitch grade seems to have little to do with it. I think it would be fun to make a similar list for Washignton or the North Cascades... I think the routes would be more diverse there and the "Titans" category would actually be a bit more legit. Though still no where near what the Rockies offer. Curious to see other folks routes. Maybe for other ranges too. Here is my incomplete list. It is grouped more by category as that seemed to make more sense for this range. The Dumb and Chossy: Routes in the Oregon Cascades Crag Routes: (could include some from Smith, Beacon etc. here but wanted them to actually be in the range, once you add those two the list is kinda endless, any other multi-pitch adventure routes in the Oregon Cascades that form a decent challenge?) Exploring the Axis, Cougar Crag Dod Route, Turkey Monster Barad Dur, Wolf Rock (mostly) Snow Routes: Reid Headwall, Hood Thayer Headwall, North Sister High Noon, Broken Top Jeff Park Glacier, Jefferson Right Gully, Hood Technical Mountain Routes: (need one more, but Oregon is pretty lacking is this dept unless you have suicidal tendencies) West Ridge, Illumination Skylight, Illumination West Ridge, Washington East Buttress, Washington Ice Adventures: Eliot Headwall, Hood Center Gully, Hood Full Richardson, Broken Top Fric/Amos, Hood Emde/Ablao, Middle Sister Big Lines: Yocum Ridge, Hood Complete East Buttress, North Sister Arachnophobia, Hood Brainless Child, Thielsen After Image, Strawberries (not technically in the Oregon Cascades or in character with the others but I wanted a 5th and this is head and shoulders above other routes in sustained technical difficulty, and more remote)

I "ran" a good loop around Jefferson in the spirit of Mts Hood, St Helens, and Adams, which have standard loops. I did this in trail running shoes and no special gear, but the East side feels very mountaineerish below Whitewater. My sense from the total lack of cairns, bivy sites, etc. over there is that nobody really goes over there, but it is a great route that I think deserves some use from other trail runner types. Main trip report is at https://medium.com/@jrit/mt-jefferson-high-loop-9c441b1ec586 Or if you just want to skip to caltopo for a track https://caltopo.com/m/MTC9T

That person is lunger. Sounds like you haven't heard of my alpine skipping workout, soon to be featured in all the Uphill Athlete programs. Plyometrics, baby, plyometrics.

Here are the pitch notes I took while on route, for anyone ever interested in repeating. I always try to take pitch notes, both from a sense of eternal optimism and my absolutely horrible memory... There were bouts of really awesome climbing, and a couple engaging pitches with minimal protection, hard climbing and consistently portable holds. P1 5.4 220’ Scramble up white slabs to a good stance below the large, steeper band of darker rock. You are aiming for an obvious, large open book for the next pitch. P2 5.8 190’ Head up into the open book, climbing to its top. Traverse left back into low fifth terrain to a talus covered bowl. P3 5.6 260’ Climb the rib to the right of the bowl past a bunch of scrambling to another large talus ledge. P4 5.9R 140’ Climb through a heinous choss band into a gully with better rock. P5 Low fifth 230’ Scramble up the gully to a solid belay. P6 low 5th 150’ gully P7 5.7 100’ Start up the face. Trend Left to a Left facing corner. Follow this to a good ledge on the prow. P8 5.10a 110’ climb the face past a roof and up a ramp to a second roof. Belay on good ledge. P9 5.10 200’ Climb the thin Right facing corner to a ledge. Then a short steep section takes you to a ramp. Follow this to a Right facing corner. Climb up this to some scrambling that leads to a large ledge. P10 5.7 180’ Climb the low angle, loose face to a shit belay. P11 5.10R 150’ Quest up the face to a decent ledge with a tricky anchor P12 5.10R 180’ Another vision quest pitch to the notch on the shoulder of the ridge. P13 5.10+ 60’ Climb the overhanging splitter to a chossy ramp. P14 5.9 170’ Start up a nice varnished corner that eases to chossy mid fifth P15 5.8 110’ Traverse to the ramp on the right. Follow it to the S ridge P16 4th 250’ A short scramble takes you to the SW summit.

Trip: mt ellinor - summer trail Trip Date: 08/27/2023 Trip Report: Kiba and I hiked up the summer trail Sunday morning, joining the other million of visitors this peak has every summer. I've always avoided Ellinor and Washington because of the crowds, so I've never been up either before, but due to the fact that I had never been plus that I could bring Kiba....well we had nothing better going so we went up Sunday morning. Its just a less than two mile hike, but still a cool position to view the rest of the Olympics. The trail is unreal, especially up higher. The Mt Rose Trail Crew really put in an insane amount of work to make this accessible to the masses that go up in every year. How many bolts did they drill to put in the wood steps? Also just some innovative trail building methods in use. Also...the first via ferratta I've even seen the Olympics! Webbing hanging on bolts right by their trail tool box or whatever it is. Anyway, while it was smokey, we watched the sunise from near the summit and saw all my old mountain friends. The Sawtooths and Cruiser, Mt Olympus holding court in the distance. Mt Skokomish, Stone, Lena, Bretherton, Constance, the Bros, etc. I think it would be fun to climb Ellinor with a guide as recommended at the bottom of the comment section here: https://www.summitpost.org/mt-ellinor/151552 What do you think Bob would charge to guide you up Ellinor? What do you think Bob looks like? I'm going to guess he will be wearing a hickory shirt, arms cut off at 3/4 length. Wearing Romeos, and Carhartts with holes in them. Or at least that is how hope he would look like. Maybe a can of Copenhagen. Due to inflation I could see Bob charging you $200 plus a 6 pack of Hamms. Gear Notes: wear shoes Approach Notes: fine European trail

This is a rad idea!! but since Washington's better than Oregon I've never done any of these routes. I'm joking, kind of, but seriously keep it up this sounds really cool!

The crowds were heinous, as to be expected on a "50 Classics" climb, but it was a wonderful day out. I already want to go back to the Tetons... Full TR here: Grand Teton – Complete Exum (III 5.7) – SPOKALPINE

The name is inspired from the Japanese film Pom Poko. The movie follows some shape shifting raccoon dogs known as Tanuki in a not so subtle commentary on modern development. On The first attempt, we rolled into the crystal creek basin to find that all of the underbrush was trampled, like a herd of dozens of bears had rolled through (with plenty of scat to back it up). It was quite spooky to bivy in the valley. The smoke was epic and there was no signs of life in the valley, quite and desolate. It felt like the Tanuki were fucking with us.

Yep, we went below the ice and the same to the top after dropping our overnight gear. First time for me going up that way and very easy. It will likely be the new standard late season route up Ruth. Crazy how much it has changed in the 25 years or so that I've been going up there!

Just back from a long weekend. I definitely have some of those... I will take a good look! James

Damn!!! I realized I never shared this here. Hopefully someone reads it and gets stoked on the adventure of a lifetime. Full TR and photos here: https://spokalpine.com/2022/07/08/denali-cassin-ridge-vi-5-8-ai4/

Wow what a cool trip! Way to get those surveying skills and put them to the test. This reminds me a little of my travels in Kyrgyzstan and Russia but we had to search out paper maps way back then. Funny how Gaia and google maps have changed things so much. Still and adventure though! Maybe I’ll get back one day . . .

Incredible! What a discovery, and what an adventure. True "follow your nose" exploration, well off the beaten track. Amazing what you were able to get done in such a short window. Thanks for posting here.

Yeah, we snuck around to Ruth summit via climbers left traverse on a bench just below the ice. The glacier was in very poor shape, as you can see. We went with the more exposed route up to Mineral, naturally, which seemed like a good thing to "experience". What level of "green hell" are talking anyways? It turned out to only have a couple moves of exposed 3rd/4th and relatively short stretches of full contact 'schwacking. Well, if you're used to that sort of thing. It might all seem a tad worse if you're from CA or CO.

I remember looking at this route from Easy Peak and wondering why more folks don't approach the Northern Pickets that way. Now I know!

Rat's more typical alpine meadow exercise:

Trip: Mont Blanc Massif - Arête du Diable Trip Date: 07/11/2022 Trip Report: During my mostly hiking vacation to the Alps, I had an impromptu linkup with none other than @drdirtbag himself, tagging 6 4000m peaks in the Mont Blanc Massif. I was scrolling through Strava when I noticed he was biking in the Alps and sent him an email. It turns out he needed a rope and partner for the most technical peaks in the 4000m list, so we had a match! I rented crampons for my running shoes and an ice ax and took the tram up... The climb is more of a ridge traverse with five independent towers, separated by rappels. The final climb to the summit of Mont Blanc de Tacul is just a long scramble. The actual climbing was on excellent granite and generally no harder than 5.8, with one definite crux on the final tower. The scale and drama of the setting was truly magnificent. It was an incredible experience to get to actually try my hand at real ALPine climbing. Just challenging enough, but generally relaxing and never stressful. We stayed the night in the Cosmiques hut before parting ways. I returned to Italy via Aguille du Midi and the Panoramic Skyway, while Dr. Dirtbag continued on his crazy peakbagging endeavors. Pretty spur of the moment linkup, but it was pretty rad. https://climberkyle.com/2022/07/11/arete-du-diable-5c/ Now for some eye candy: Now for some sunset photos: The traverse! Gear Notes: Running shoes, strap on crampons, ice ax, single rack .4-2, nuts, slings, 60m rope. Approach Notes: Glacier remarkably filled in considering the absolutely terrible snow year and summer heat there... bergschrund crossable still. Approach couloir just 3rd class choss, be careful for rockfall here.

Thanks, all! For location convenience, below is some background info. on the two grade V's to the north of our route. Above, I referred to these both as climbing the NW Buttress, as they climb a vaguely wishbone-like buttress that trends WNW. However, the original Soviet party called their route the North Face, and third ascent party, the West Buttress. The Oregonians characterized their line as on the NW Buttress, which I think is a reasonable reference for the entire buttress. Excerpt from the Oregonian's trip report: SW Bonanza Peak (right) and West Bonanza Peak (left) seen from the west. (Photo: Steph Abegg) 1. NW Buttress, “The Oregonian Route.” 5.9+ V. Keena and Bonnett 2013. 2. W Buttress, "The Soviet Route." 5.9+/5.10 V. Bershov et. al. 1975. (Overlay as documented by 3rd ascent party) Our route, the Cascadian, ascends the West Face off to looker's right of these two routes, topping out just right of the summit. Our first pitch begins at the small caret-shaped (^) snowfield in the pic. Here's Steph Abegg's well-researched and documented account of a third ascent of the Soviet Route, including some interesting route history: https://sites.google.com/stephabegg.com/washington/tripreports/bonanza She rightly characterizes the wall as "rival in size and difficulty to many of the biggest faces in the Cascades". This route felt reminiscent of the routes @rat and I climbed on the Hozomeens, but with a better kind of rock-quality variability, and much easier access. It has my qualified recommendation, fwiw. Here's the view of Bonanza's west wall a couple years ago en route to (or from?) Dark Peak. The Cascadian ascends slightly left of center (begins just right of the tiny snowpatch), the other routes begin out of view at far left margin. The portion of the wall to the right, above the long snowfield, is unclimbed and looks positively atrocioulicious.

looks like hwy20 is open with a pilot car through the burnt out areas. Must have been raining up there real good.

These images are breathtaking!

Ah yes...for the old lookout:

Great TR!

Thank you, it was a blast for sure. there was running water all throughout the glacier creek drainage, below the glacier, and up on the kennedy glacier. There were murky pools in the glacier as well as surface streams running down. Don't remember the very upper portion of the glacier below Frostbite ridge having water but there was plenty just below. Yeah go get it while the glacier is still connected!

Please see the TR on the TAY website for this momentous FFA: https://turns-all-year.com/trip-reports/tay-69-46-3-home-lake-snowpatch-mt-constance

Trip: Graywolf Ridge to Walkinshaw - Standard Trip Date: 07/16/2023 Trip Report: When it looks like a hot and hazy weekend, I often catch myself looking west to the Olympics. If the Cascades are baking and smokey, the Olympics can often be a good deal cooler and clearer. Such was the case a couple weekends ago when I was casting about for solo trip options for a couple days. After reviewing a too warm (for me) forecast for the North Cascades, I settled on a traverse of Graywolf ridge to Walkinshaw. My brother, @ZakG , signed on last minute, gear considerations and meeting time discussed, and we met early on a Saturday to catch the Edmonds ferry to Kingston. The hike up to Baldy was uneventful, if steep, warm and muggy. We lunched on the lower false summit and headed up to the true summit for mug shots and a gander at the route ahead We had only seen a couple people so far on the trip and we headed off into solitude to the top of Graywolf For whatever reason, the USGS marker on Graywolf looked immaculate and solid gold, despite being placed in 1930??! And then it was off to South Graywolf, and our bivy for the night. Strangely, we couldn't find any flowing water below the large snowfields on the peak, and had to scrounge slushy water from a depression near the base of one. Water is an issue on this ridge! We arrived on the summit of South Graywolf in the late afternoon and settled in for a beautiful evening. Great flat summit for a bivy, but no shelter and no water nearby. The night was clear and relatively calm, with no snaffles. We awoke to another beautiful day, though it promised to be warm. Off we headed to Walkinshaw. We stopped at the col south of South Graywolf to drop our overnight gear. Lo and behold we ran into a soloist, Derek, from Longview, WA. I'm not sure who was more surprised. And so, being neighborly, Derek offered to join forces with us to keep rockfall under control. We had a great time getting to know each other, while conferring over the best way upwards. It was a bit steeper than any of us were expecting but never really severe. There was maybe one small section of 4th class low down on the face, but mostly it was reasonable, if exposed, Cl. 3 ground. The rock was solid, for the Olympics, but a helmet was definitely warranted. Within an hour or so, we found ourselves on top. Anybody know who these "Truckers" are who placed this register Cool peak history in there... And great views into the Needles After almost an hour on top we carefully retraced our steps down the peak and back to our gear. We bid Derek adieu as he headed up South Graywolf, and we hammered the knees down to the Royal Basin trail. No brush on the descent from the South Graywolf-Walkinshaw col (if you are on the right path), but plenty of hard dirt and cemented scree- we were glad to be down that slope and onto the unexpectedly pleasant trail. I had forgotten how nice it is! And then, the usual- chips, beer, change of clothes at the car, followed by battling the masses back to the busy Puget lowlands. 2 hour ferry wait! But a pleasant weekend all around.... Gear Notes: Boots, poles, helmet, maybe ice axe and crampons early season Approach Notes: Baldy trail up and Royal Basin trail out

Trip: Goode - NE Butt Trip Date: 08/03/2023 Trip Report: Kyle Tarry and I climbed this peak in two days from Rainy Pass Aug 3-4. Day 1: Hike to bivy sites below the glacier and scope the glacial approach. Day 2: Climb the route (6x simul pitches), descend to Park Creek and hike back to Rainy Pass, arriving at 1am... should have probably just stopped to sleep somewhere. Pictures: Goode from North Fork Kyle at the NF creek crossing. Hiking up to the bivies, surprisingly chill trail through the slide alder. Logan and Fireweed Kyle slogging in the heat. Minimal schwackage though. Scoping the glacier and lower route. Kyle low on route, 2nd simul pitch next morning. View E off ridge. More scrambling with the rope on. Kyle romping... rope is less jengis than it appears. Even more scrambles. Choss f*$&ery on what I assume is upper Megalodon? Eldorado (far R), Forbidden, Buckner, Booker, Trapper Lake, looking to the W. Glacier Peak, Dome and friends to the S. Descent in the burn. Pretty, not too hard but dusty on this section. Purdy bits from the long walk out. 👇 Gear Notes: approach shoes are fine, 60m double rope folded over for simuling, single rack to #2 Approach Notes: There is a significant climbers trail from North Fork to the cliff below the glacier. We were both surprised at how easy the "bushwhack" was for NCNP. We were able to sneak onto the glacier and access the L side of the buttress above some crevasses with no serious difficulty. It looked uncertain from below but went fine.

Trip: Porcupine Creek Wall - Salad Days III 900' 5.10+ Trip Date: 08/20/2022 Trip Report: It did not go unnoted when Eric Wehrly moved to town. While our more noteworthy first ascents may be of a…umm…slightly different style, in my mind’s eye I generally enjoy any adventure far from the road particularly if it involves unclimbed terrain. Finding like-minded folks at a similar point in life, that is old, is not easy. So I assumed at some point we’d tie in together. It did not happen quickly. While phone numbers were exchanged and talk of getting out occurred, the years passed by. Maybe I came on too strong. During Covid there may have been a day at Mount Erie where I loudly berated Eric to be my “New Best Friend!” as he TR-soloed nearby. Clearly, I needed a better incentive than that. Halfway up the Pacific Crest Trail between Rainy and Cutthroat Passes a large wall of granite stands proudly above the trail. I first walked by it eighteen years ago with my then girlfriend. From a distance it had the obvious geometry and tone of good rock. A friend and I almost went to check it out but we made other plans and the idea was largely forgotten. This summer I strolled by it again, with my now wife and our two teenage children. Still there, still grey, still splitter. A week later I spent a solitary day circumnavigating Porcupine Peak. The summit was eventually attained, and, on the descent I found myself beneath this wall I had considered for decades. Carefully glassing it I became discouraged. As I walked away I thought “almost but not quite, the start may not go and the rest is just a bit too dirty and discontinuous.” However, it’s amazing what some grainy iPhone photos and a bit of selective memory can do. Furthermore I finally had the sort of incentive Eric might respond to. On Saturday August 20th we stood below “the start that may not go” and sure enough it didn’t. As this had been my idea, I felt obligated to get us rolling so I began a long circuitous pitch climbing easy terrain off to the side before a long downward traverse led to a committing mantle onto a vegetated slab above. Struggling with massive rope drag from the severely Z-shaped pitch, I encountered a recurring theme of frantically hacking away a clump of heather to find a small cam placement. Eric quickly downrated my estimated grade and then scrambled up more heather covered corners to the base of a steep, relatively clean layback flake. Perfect edges made the otherwise intimidating flake go quickly. Unfortunately, the intended route up a long “hand crack” above the flake turned out to be 100 feet of 4”-6” offwidth. The scale of the wall was turning out to be a bit larger than anticipated. Instead, Eric made a delicate leftward traverse before committing to a steep, broken crack formed in part by some precariously hollow fridge-sized blocks. Easy terrain led to the base of what had appeared to be a splitter from the base of the wall. Above I could only see a slammed shut seam covered in a thick crust of lichen, moss, and dirt. Eric proclaimed it to be a finger crack. I was highly skeptical. But on new ground there’s nothing worse than being the person who forfeits your partner's last proud lead by bailing off into indirect, unappealing terrain. I spent several minutes pawing at the start, muttering random negativities. After a few minutes I finally committed to the initial moves into the corner then rapidly hung on a nut. But it was started and despite my deep pessimism about there actually being a climbable crack under the filth I found myself inching upwards. Sand and pulverized lichen poured into my eyes, my nose, my ears, and my shirt. Aiding up in 8mm dyneema slings progress was dispiritingly slow as I cleaned out every single placement. Time oozed on and hours later I finally pulled the singular hand jam at the very top of the 150-foot crack and flopped onto a good ledge. Now relatively cleaned out, Eric rapidly followed the crack free proclaiming it 5.10+. Having climbed three pitches in five hours and 45 minutes, simple math suggested that our rate of ascent was significantly slower than the sun's rate of descent. While I did not yet suggest bailing, I did point out this obvious observation. Yet Eric confidently proclaimed that the “walk off” would in fact be a walk and that we would only need headlamps once we were within spitting distance of our packs. Regardless of attitude at this point, the wall kicked back a bit and the next pitch looked easier. No reason to bail yet so Eric headed out, moving quickly across a thankfully clean hand crack before moving out of sight into the corners above. Progress slowed, the rope stopped moving, I almost nodded off. The clouds continued to build as the rope made halting progress. A random inquiry on my part was met with a stern “Not Now”. Eventually Eric reappeared above having navigated some sketchy 5.10 face climbing to avoid an impossibly munge-filled corner. Moving left and right, up and down he eventually retreated to a blocky alcove from which we could reappraise the options above. With the rack refreshed the obvious direction was through an overhanging V-shaped corner. Chimney moves, flared jams, wide stemming and possibly some tension left me once again above my gear, hanging off a sloping rail, feet stemmed out on small dishes, surrounded by thick mats of grass and heather pasted in corners. With my ancient Chouinard north wall hammer wedged into a hummock, a brief struggle ensued between which would be pried off first, the hummock or myself. Thankfully the hummock released, revealing a perfect hand crack. The climbing relented and the rate of progress discernibly increased. As I neared the end of a lead the sky finally cracked open with a brief squall and a lovely rainbow filling the valley. Despite the weather I finally felt committed to the climb. Going over the top was now the path of least resistance. Almost every challenging climb you undertake has that beautiful inflection point, when hours, days or even years of uncertainty just melt away leaving you relaxed and in the moment. Eric climbed another beautiful corner with sustained finger cracks under the hummocks and dirt. The final pitch was a perfect finale. Shockingly clean granite with delightful climbing up to and around a large roof followed by easy, clean slabs to the top of the wall. The Cascades were bathed in a beautiful soft glow and views extended from Dome in the far distance to the sun setting off the shoulder of Mesachie Peak. The walk off was anything but, and had it been dark we would have been in for a genuine epic. Yet much as predicted headlamps only came out as we finally exited the talus onto delightful heather meadows not far from our packs. If you're familiar with Eric’s and Rolf’s first ascents on massive walls of less than stellar rock I’m sure you’ve wondered what makes them tick. My simple observation would be an extremely positive mental attitude with a surprisingly conservative aversion to potential loose rock. My successes have largely been built off an ability to separate the negativity of my dumb brain from the mechanical motions of moving upwards. It’s worked but doesn’t seem nearly as efficient as Eric's approach. I’d like to think I might adopt some of his positive mindset in the future. That said I’m pretty sure we influenced each other, as we headed out down wet talus with heavy packs Eric could be heard muttering “If you added a few bolts...”. Hour and twenty minutes from parking Lot Enter the Drag-On (forever) In my happy place (after the rain) Exiting the wall Views South and North Old Dirty Bastard and Mr. Clean Postscript After Eric graciously spent another day of his life reclimbing and fixing the first four pitches with me I went back for the Labor Day weekend and put in thirty hours of cleaning, creating fixed anchors and adding several variations to avoid indirect, loose or excessively dirty terrain. Rock is excellent and clean throughout. Rappelling is quick and efficient vs. the unsavory walk off. There is a pile of good climbing up there.

Freÿr, Belgium!

Just please answer the question @sulinelanie.

So @sulinelanie, can you explain how AI can keep me safer when rock climbing?

Hello everyone! Here's sunrise on J-Berg,taken during a climb of Forbidden on August 28, 2022

Trip: Seton Lake - FA-Lieutenant Dan's Aquatic Death Ride - 450m 4+ Date: 12/16/2022 Trip Report: Ice climbing around Lillooet has been on my to do list for a few years now. Just needed the right conditions and a stoked partner. This December it came together. Doing some research on the area, Zach Krahmer and I saw that an epic looking and unclimbed line had come in at Seton lake and it seemed too good not to take a shot at. We'd be there Thursday night, and Friday looked to have the best weather conditions to go for the route. The West Coast Ice guidebook advises climbers to “canoe down the lake about an hour to the climbs” on Seton Lake. Jesse Mace and Bruce Kay used a canoe, but recommended a row boat in their report for the FA of Piss 'n Vinegar. Jesse highlighted a few concerns with a canoe including potential capsizing in choppy weather and damage to the boat while climbing (from falling ice, and hitting the cliff if winds picked up as you climbed). Coming from Oregon, we looked into canoe rentals near Lillooet and found none given the season. After almost giving up due to feasibility concerns, a friend of Zach’s offered to loan us a rowboat style 2-person raft made of ripstop material. Not only would it fit in the car on the drive up, but it might be more stable in choppy water, and once we unweighted it to climb, it would be less likely to be damaged by contact with the rock cliff. On the face of it, there seemed to be some sensible advantages over a canoe. However, an obvious question remained → how to start ice climbing with crampons from an inflatable raft in an ice cold lake surrounded by steep rock cliffs? Would there be a place to safely step off the raft onto the climb without crampons that wouldn't result in a slip into the frigid water below? Jesse's trip report mentioned (jokingly) that a gun might be better than a life jacket if one were to fall in. It was hard to tell from the compressed pictures we’d seen online to know what would be waiting for us. We arrived in town Thursday evening and Zach drove us straight to the lake knowing that we might be paddling back the next night in similar conditions. The waves were nearly non-existent and the water almost completely calm. Checking the forecast we saw the next night's forecast was similar, which gave us what we needed to make a decision. We decided the next morning we would paddle out and see how the raft to climb transition looked. We hoped for the best, but knew very well we might be paddling right back to where we started. Prepping the boat in the early morning hours Ready to disembark The next morning we arrived in the dark after checking forecasts again. We inflated the raft and launched into the calm water. It was a peaceful paddle and we saw four eagles on the way out, one of them diving into the water for its meal. We took note of the other climbs that were coming in nicely this season. Looking back 2 km to our put in from aboard the raft. Comedy of Errors | Deliverance / Squeal Like a Pig | Fishin' Musician Fishin' Musician on left with Winter Water Sports in the distance. The climb! After 5-6 km of paddling, we neared our objective. We were dismayed by what we saw. The wall was far too steep to step onto safely without crampons. We paddled past the climb for a new perspective in hopes of seeing something nearby that could get us established, but found nothing. Passing by again, we took a longer look at the thin layer of ice that came down close to the water's edge. The ice nearest the lake water was partially delaminated from the rock, but seemed to be solid just a little higher. We devised a plan. With Zach holding dynamic tension from a cam at the rear of the boat, I would reach over to the sheet of ice and place ice screws, attach slings to those screws and then step into the slings with cramponless boots. This would get me high enough off the water, and far enough from the raft, so that I could attach crampons and get moving. Because the ice closest to the water was questionable, I knew I had to get a screw as high as possible. I leaned over kneeling carefully and started to place the first 10 cm screw. After just a few turns, the screw bottomed out onto the rock below. Damn. Surely I’d just hit an unlucky bit of thinner ice. “How easy this all would be if I just had my crampons on!” I removed the screw and placed it again, once again hitting rock after a few turns. Not willing to take a chance on such a marginal placement, I reached as high as I could while Zach steadied the raft. From this precarious stance, I managed to get a screw about 7cm into the ice. Knowing the failure mechanics of partially driven screws, and knowing I would be delicately standing in the sling rather than taking a dynamic fall, this seemed adequate to get started. I clove-hitched into the first screw to safeguard a higher reach and placed another screw. It wasn't great either, but deep enough! Using my tools I carefully stood up in the raft and got a foot into the first sling. I gently weighted it and saw no sign of failure. I stood up, and placed my foot into the other screw’s sling. With all my weight now on the wall, I reached higher to thicker ice. I fired in another screw and clipped into it. Now I was far enough from the raft to put on crampons safely. It ain't easy touching your toes while hanging off a screw and wearing a life jacket, but after a few minutes of uncomfortable gymnastics, the crampons were on! Now that I was properly ready, I shot up to a position above an overhanging cove where we would stow the raft. I built a v-thread to attach the raft and belay Zach up. Moments later we'd hauled up an array of “oh shit” gear (hot broth, food, bivy gear, dry clothes, warmers and anything else we might need if the boat failed) that had been stowed in waterproof bags in the raft. Zach cleaned the boat and made his way up to join me at the belay. We were finally ready to climb but the extra care we'd taken in exiting the raft had used up a considerable bit of time. Weighing the various risks, we'd prioritized fastidious attention to detail during this tricky and unfamiliar portion of climbing instead of schedule, and it showed. We were starting the climb at 12:30pm. We discussed and agreed - we weren't sure how far we would make it before we ran out of daylight, but the first half of the climb had looked relatively easy, so maybe we could make up time? I started up the first pitch which cuts over and then up a small section of ice that spills over and connects the starting cove and the primary flow of ice above. This first section turned out to be excessively wet, chandeliered ice with no real options to avoid the flowing water. I did my best to move quickly, and soon enough I was above the cove, an anchor was built and Zach was brought up. Above us was a long stretch of multiple 70m pitches of WI3 before steepening into the main headwall. We had twin 70m ropes so I knew I could cover a fair distance with each pitch, just had to move smoothly and efficiently! I took off. Although often wet, the climbing was straightforward, and soon enough I was 70m above Zach ready to set up a belay. “At this rate we stand a chance to make up time!'' I thought. But my hopes were quickly dashed. As I built the anchor and started to pull the weight of the two 70m ropes, I found we’d encountered an unfortunate new challenge. The rope was completely saturated and freezing in the cold temps. Not only was this creating a massive amount of resistance to pull the rope through my device as it sheared off the thick ice, but since the ropes were so coated in ice they were nearly impossible to grab with my glove, often slipping right through as I tried to pull in slack. I worked hard to use whatever tricks I could think of, but I was not able to pull in slack quickly, slowing Zach’s progress substantially. Finally Zach was at the belay and I started up the next pitch. On lead I was able to move relatively quickly, but at every belay the icy rope recoated, and seemed impossible to pull though the belay device. It wasn’t getting any better as we continued on, and it was taking a toll. The belaying was literally harder than leading the pitches! Around halfway up the wall the sun began to fade, and we knew we'd have to make a decision on whether to continue on or descend to our vessel. Winds were non-existent and temps were comfortable as night fell. The biggest challenge continued to be the icy belays, but conditions were downright pleasant, and route finding with a headlamp was going well so we decided to continue upward. The main headwall is a series of roughly pitch length ice steps, that each obscure the step above (probably exacerbated by the limitations of our headlamps). So at the top of each step we'd be sure we were on the last pitch, only to find another full rope length of climbing above. Slowly but consistently we checked in and continued on. The late night and cool temps brought some neat Hoarfrost. Similar to this branch, the hoar frost binded horizontally to many of the ice pillars on the upper portion of the climb. Way behind schedule but in good spirits, we topped out and built the first v-thread, preparing to descend. It was a beautiful night, and surely raps couldn't be as hard as the guide mode belays! Late, but in good spirits! Descending was relatively smooth with the exception of the rope freezing to the cliff a few times and a route finding error where I went too far to climber's right and ended up in the wrong drainage. Accidents seem to happen on the way down when people start to lose focus or rush, so we did our best not to do either, slowing and safely working our way down the wall. Before too long we were back at our stash of gear, drinking from Zach's thermos and eating snacks, our raft floating safely in the protected cove below. So far so good, now we just needed to get back into the boat and paddle out! We could hear the sound of waves below us, sounding larger than what we’d experienced on the way in. We tried to make out the lake conditions with our headlamps, but the dark water seemed to reflect almost nothing. We’d taken far longer than we’d anticipated to get to this point, and now the sun would be up soon. Feeling warm and good, we figured we might as well relax for a minute, taking our time to eat and drink, as daylight would make navigating the lake easier. Shortly after sunrise, as we prepped for the last rap into the raft, Tyler Creasey arrived transporting another party in his boat. From his boat, Tyler offered for us to come aboard to relax and enjoy his heated cabin for a few minutes once we got off the climb. We’d spoken to Tyler the previous week and ran into him the night before at the Cookhouse–awesome honey garlic wings by the way! Tyler is offering his services to climbers for the first time and we’d recommend connecting with him if you are interested in his boat. We removed and safely stowed anything sharp, put life jackets on and rappelled into the raft. We’d intentionally left the boat under the cove to protect it from ice fall, but this also meant that it was partially below the wet ice flow. I was in the boat first and found everything in good shape, but some water had accumulated in the bottom of the boat. Not enough to impact travel, but enough to slosh around and get my boots wet. “Oh how pleasant” I thought. Zach cleaned up, rappelled into the boat and we were off, leaving behind only the v-thread. Although I was anxious to get back to the car, we agreed it would be fun to take up Tyler on his offer and relax for a minute on his boat. Tyler was hanging out at the base of Winter Water Sports, occasionally trolling eastward toward the parking lot to prevent the wind from blowing him too far west. After we boarded we got to benefit from one of these trolling sessions, as we sat chatting with Tyler for about 15 min. Before long, Tyler reached the furthest east point he planned to troll to and let us know this was our stop. We climbed back into the raft and started paddling again. It was 9:59am as we pushed off from Tyler’s boat. We’d been advised about the risk of winds picking up around 2pm, which would have left us plenty of time, but as we paddled towards the car our luck wasn’t so good. Winds were increasing and our forward progress began to slow. As more time went by, the wind increased, we slowed and the cycle began to reinforce itself. It seemed our progress would eventually be stopped if winds continued to increase, so we opted to cross the lake and travel on foot the remainder of the way back. A railroad track runs the north side of the lake. We knew dragging a boat wasn’t going to be easy, but at least we wouldn’t be at risk of being blown further west, away from the parking lot. We arrived at the far side of the lake and pulled the raft onto shore. The boat wasn’t light, but slid along the tracks quickly. Just before the parking lot there is a narrow channel of water separating the railroad tracks from the dock about 55 meters across. We approached the channel and assessed the best place to put in and cross (taking care to stay west of the dam inflow). At this time, Tyler’s boat drove back to the docks, only to quickly turn around and head back up the lake. Tyler’s boat turned again and headed straight toward us. I figured Tyler was going to take the opportunity to bust on us for doing things the hard way before heading back to check on the other climbers. Instead, he conveyed a message that immediately crushed me. Someone had called search and rescue on us. I was in complete disbelief. How did this happen? We’d literally just been hanging out with Tyler on his boat joking a few hours ago and in good spirits and he is the guy that does SAR on the lake. Later we would find out that when SAR called Tyler after we’d departed his boat, he told them he’d just seen us, and if they waited we’d be back to the dock soon. While I am frustrated they didn’t heed Tyler’s recommendation, I understand why. I know SAR is under significant pressure in circumstances where a rescue is potentially needed and choosing not to take action always has some risk that a negative outcome will result. We both have a strong opinion regarding SAR calls. Specifically, we believe SAR should only be used in cases where death is imminent or long lasting bodily injury is otherwise inevitable. I despise an attitude amongst some that seem to believe that SAR is who you call when you get tired, or things get hard. If you don’t have high confidence that you can get back or get down, then you don’t have business pursuing that objective. Upon our return to the base of the climb, if the boat had been destroyed, and we had no other way across the lake, we would have climbed the route again, connected to Seton Retask Road and hiked the 27km back to the car. It wouldn’t be easy or pleasant, but harder things have been accomplished by people who’ve set their minds to them. I don’t see the world of adventure as a theme park where I can hit the big red EMO switch on. And yet here we were, standing in front of a uniformed Canadian police officer, requesting that we get on Tyler’s boat to be escorted across for the remaining distance that I could nearly throw a rock across. We reluctantly complied and soon enough we were back at the car. We talked with the SAR members to understand what had gone wrong so that a similar mistake would not be repeated. We’d thought we were doing things right. We had met with Tyler the night before and discussed communication during the climb. Zach had been communicating with Tyler (the very person who would have been called in a SAR event) during the climb, providing him with updates on our progress and general wellbeing. Zach had an inreach mini that we could have used at any time if a real problem had arisen, which we thought would prevent a loved one from thinking a call like this would be necessary. Zach’s loved one did not know we were communicating with Tyler and was unfamiliar with how to initiate a garmin message. Ultimately because of our slower progress and the coming cold front, a call was put out in the last hours of the trip. This call emphasizes the importance of establishing expectations with loved ones at home about communication before heading out. We both truly regret that SAR was incorrectly called. Besides that unfortunate mistake (and although everything took longer than planned), the trip went quite well, particularly considering the challenges involved. We climbed an unclimbed ice route on a frigid lake from an inflatable raft without a single "close call". Research shows accidents are most likely to occur not when carefully pushing limits, but due to complacency. Feel free to think it's stupid or crazy, but just remember those are subjective concepts that we often manipulate to justify our own actions and condemn the actions of others. Regardless, if you're hankering for a little aquatic adventure (and maybe a little suffering too! lol) Lieutenant Dan’s Aquatic Death Ride will be out there waiting!

hold on a sec, this is better:

The NF of Terror should be on your list:

Great idea. I always learn so much by my own and other people's mistakes. 1. I used to girth hitch the little cord of my point and shoot camera into a sling so as to prevent from accidentally dropping it. Then one day about 5 pitches up on SEWS I looked down to see that I had clipped into that little camera cord as my tether at the anchor. Someone I grabbed the main sling but instead of clipping into the end of it I clipped into the carmera cord at the end. Needless to say I don't ever tether my camera by a sling anymore..... 2. I had a friend fall and die while climbing with a new partner on a long multipitch route. They were climbing above their ability but their new partner didn't realize it. At the time, I was climbing with a lot of new people on bigger routes as well. I realized that I could have easily been my friend's "new climbing partner" in that scenario. It is so hard to tell someone's actual level of experience from a hike up to a cliff/mountain. I had previously thought that as long as I was solid at whatever grade we were doing it didn't matter. But after a lot of reflection I decided that wasn't true. If I was climbing with someone of less ability they could want to "hold up their end of the partnership" by leading, routefinding etc. But what if they are way in over their heads, and I don't know it because I don't know them as a person or their past experience. Now days I want to spend a day cragging or just get to know someone as a friend before getting into a big route together.

Great idea for a thread! I have a some good (?) stories that I will try and post as I have time. The first that came to mind was falling unroped (with the rope) into a 'schrund on the NE couloir on Colchuck around 2000. My partner (who didn't fall in), was my soon-to-be wife.

Trip: Johannesburg Mountain - NE Buttress Solo Trip Date: 08/01/2018 Trip Report: I overheard some friends talking about Bill Amos' solo of Johannesburg and was immediately inspired. The allure of the mountain and style of climbing was too much to pass up. Before I start my senior year of high school I wanted to do something really fun. After binge reading trip reports and training for a few months, I felt psyched and ready. I already have a decent bit of soloing under my belt so the climb just seemed right. Fast forward to Monday night, I got in my car and drove out to Cascade Pass. I set my alarm for 7:00 but woke up at 6:30 (probably due to the anticipation). The sheer beauty of Johannesburg is impossible to ignore; its imposing face shows so much promise. After scarfing down a breakfast bar and some pop-tarts, I locked my car and began the arduous approach. A grueling .2 miles down the road lead me to a dirt mound with access to the river. Crossing over rocks and walking up a talus field put me at the first snow on the route. The snow was rock hard so my crampons begrudgingly came out of my pack. I was careful to move fast across the snow because I didn't want to get taken out by an avalanche. A rock ramp to the left of the second waterfall provided seemingly easy access to the buttress. Looking up at Johannesburg After some easy slab and low 5th class I arrived at the second snowfield. Here's where I made my first mistake. Once again, the snow was rock solid. I put on my crampons to walk the 100 something feet across it to the rock. Thinking more snow was soon to come, I clipped my crampons to my harness. Looking for a good line through the trees, I decided to go straight up some 4th class rock and then traverse right later on. This beta absolutely sucked. The initial 200 feet or so was smooth sailing. I soon encountered more and more trees, eventually reaching an impassible rock band within the brush. From here I traversed right until I found a gully within the trees that allowed me to climb up. It was hot, steep, and heinous bushwhacking. Finally I could see the third snowfield. At this point I was well above it but had a clear view of the 1957 route. This snowfield basically cuts the buttress in half until they join up again high on the vertical rock. Tired, I took off my pack to eat a probar and drink some water. Looking at my harness I realize only 1 crampon is clipped on. My other must have gotten eaten by trees earlier in the bushwhack! Thinking about Jean-Christophe's rescue on Annapurna reminded me that I'm probably not going to die if I'm short one crampon. Slabs before second snowfield. It's hard to describe how much the trees suck. I found no evidence of a path and basically pulled on branches, heather, and devil's club the whole way up. Things would frequently get caught on my rope or ice tools during this section. Another hour or so of this put me at the heather slopes. For about 800 feet I walked up some easy 3rd class slopes covered in heather. The 70 degree heat made me really thirsty. I brought 2 liters of water and realized it probably wasn't going to last all the way to the bivy. Rationing out water was uncomfortable but that's life. More scrambling finally put me on the rock. What a relief! Soon 4th class rock turned into low 5th and life was peachy. It felt absolutely euphoric to move well on the steep slopes. I didn't find loose rock to be that big of an issue. I checked my watch and realized I was about 400 feet from the bivy. Up ahead of me looked to be the "crux" rock section. I traversed right from the 1951 route on to the approximate 1957 route. I think this allowed me to skip some hard sections because I encountered maybe 5.6 rock up to this point. Though the glacier was still obscured by rock, I knew I was close. Rock face. I stayed in the middleish left My fatigue meant I wasn't climbing at my best. I elected to take off my pack for the next 200 feet or so and just haul it up. Some 5.8 face climbing through loose rocks put me on top of a small ridge. I was at the glacier! After bringing up my pack, I scrambled up some 4th class rock and was at the bivy. I drank straight from the glacial runoff. This was the first time in my life I was happy to see mosquitoes. The struggles of the day melted when confronted with the beauty of the mountains around me. After a warm meal and some relaxing. I was sound asleep in my bivy sack. Bivy of the decade Me stoked to be fed and hydrated Waking up at 6:30 was kind of cold. I didn't bring a sleeping bag but was pretty was comfy nonetheless. After some packing and eating, it was time to get on the glacier. This part was less than ideal. The snow was luckily much softer than at the base of the mountain. Despite only having one crampon, climbing up the snow to the arete was easy. After carefully walking on the arete I decided going straight up the headwall would be hard. I downclimbed a few meters to the rock ridge. The rock actually went! Easy scrambling and some short traverses on the snow allowed me to skip almost all of the glacier and headwall. At the summit ridge I scrambled up right to the biggest peak. I made it! It turns out I was the first person there in almost a year! The log could also use some more paper if anyone is going up there soon. The feeling of being up there is indescribable. Signing the summit log and snapping a few photos, I was ready to head down. Headwall. I scrambled on the rock to the left Obligatory summit selfie Signing the climber's log Staying to the south side of the gendarmes, follow a loosely marked carin path to the East face. I opted to rap instead of downclimb initially. 8 bomber rappels brought me to some low angle heather. It's important to aim straight for the CJ col. There looks like other paths would be better but they cliff out. About 600 feet of downclimbing brought me to the col in one piece. Looking up from the col Now sidehilling ensued. Going close under the buttress and heading straight toward Doug's Direct seemed to work best. Walking through all the brush isn't fun but the ascent to mix up peak was easy. About 1000 feet 3rd and 4th class scrambling down the north ridge of Mix Up brought me to Cache Glacier. The climbers trail is visible from the top of the ridge; go there. Walking down the climbers trail felt like one of those flat escalators at an airport compared to the rest of the climb. 3.7 miles of running and I was back to the parking lot. Looking down from the top of Doug's Direct. This was a climb to remember. The beauty of the North Cascades is hard to forget. I don't think I'll be back to Johannesburg for at least a few more months. I would really love to try and get up it in the winter. Shoutout to Steph Abegg and everyone else who has previously made trip reports. I have mad respect for anyone who has done this climb. Don't let your guard down when you get to the summit. Johannesburg is the mountain that keeps on giving. Now its time to get ready for Bear Mountain. Here's the general route I took. I could have screwed up but I'm pretty sure this is where I went. Gear Notes: Took climbing shoes and chalk but didn't need them. Approach Notes: Walk .2 miles down the road. Cross river.

Trip: Three Fingers - east face couloir Date: 3/9/2013 Trip Report: On days when it's not raining, There's a great view of Three Fingers from eastbound 20 out of Anacortes. Sometime recently I made that drive on one of those days when the sky is fine art. Cool cloud formations and late afternoon sun hit the mountain just right, and got me thinking about going up there for a closer look. The approach went well, the bush'wackin wasn't very grim, and I made it to my bivy spot by a boulder near the foot of the slope below the east face with time left to kill. I started my ascent in the dark hours of the morning, and soon my decision to leave skins behind became a nagging regret. The snow went from supportable easy going, to variable knee deep, but with a few healthy curses I made it to the base of the couloir before the sun started really cooking the wall above. Conditions made for slow going up the couloir. To make it easier, I followed the edge of a runnel that hugged climbers right. I kept my head up as much as possible to watch for big sh*t, there was debris coming down everywhere. Most of it small, but I did get bashed a couple times. The couloir topped out on a high shoulder, and I continued up moderating slopes towards the middle summit. The snow was much different above the shoulder, about a foot of consolidated cold snow overlay an ice crust. The entire ridge line was corniced except for a little notch just right of the rimmed summit nub. I aimed for that notch. I was about about 20 feet below it when I felt and heard a sickening WUMPH. No slab cut out, but It was a clear indication of instability in those final feet below the ridge, and the consequences were high. I backed off a few steps and clicked on the skis. Ski conditions were good, the slight double fall line nature of the couloir naturally managed my sluff. Timing seemed about right since the sun had softened up the icy parts, and left the couloir just after I skied it, I suppose I could have got started a little earlier to help avoid the ice/rockfall on the climb. 100_2229 by danhelmstadter, on Flickr Stoked about my new crampons from Jim's shop. 100_2226 by danhelmstadter, on Flickr John Scurlock photo John Scurlock image by danhelmstadter, on Flickr climbing above shoulder shoulder by danhelmstadter, on Flickr 100_2243 by danhelmstadter, on Flickr 100_2254 by danhelmstadter, on Flickr morning sunhit morninglight by danhelmstadter, on Flickr 100_2228 by danhelmstadter, on Flickr

Trip: Johannesburg Mountain - NE Buttress Date: 10/7/2012 Trip Report: Everyone has a special place they’re particularly fond of, one that they return to time and time again. One such place for me is Johannesburg Mountain. For some reason, despite the hazards, I keep returning to this majestic and rugged place to bask in its beauty, and revel in the sights and sounds of a quintessential North Cascades alpine environment. For the North Cascades enthusiast, Johannesburg is a smorgasbord of rugged terrain, scenic beauty, and alpine challenge that has few rivals. With the forecast this October weekend of 60 degree temperatures at pass level, there was no question a trip to the N Cascades was in order. It didn’t take long for me to persuade Daniel to join me on a climb of Johannesburg’s NE Rib, a climb I had done twice before. I talked it up to him on a ski trip up Mt Torment (directly across the valley) a couple of years ago, and he had wanted to climb it ever since. Departing Seattle at 4AM, we wanted to time it so we got to the Cascade Pass parking lot just as the sun was rising. We were leaving the parking lot at 7AM, just before sunrise. Unique to North Cascades peaks that can be considered rugged, the approach to Johannesburg takes all of 25 minutes. Descend from the parking lot, cross the mouth of the Cascade River, and ascend a talus slope to the base of the C-J Couloir. The snow was rock-solid and we were glad to have aggressive steel crampons, especially for the exposed upper portion of the arête. Upon transitioning to rock, the moat was enormous. After a bit of searching, we found the most reasonable spot to get onto the rock which involved downclimbing a 20 ft vertical step. The NE Rib consists of ~2500’ of steep to vertical bushwhacking, followed by 1200’ of steep rock, then a final 1000’ of steep glacier to the summit involving a knife-edge snow arête with nearly 5000’ of exposure. The challenge on the lower portion of the route is to find a thread that involves minimal bushwhacking, because the potential for epic bushwhacking is real. There is sort of a path (if you can call it one) where it is obvious people have been there, but staying on it is not easy. Daniel and I managed to find the path of least resistance, and we both enjoyed swinging from branch to branch and making relatively quick progress up the lower portion of the NE Buttress. Soon, steep bushwhacking leads to steep heather and eventually rock as you break out above tree line. We paused frequently to enjoy the views.. the vivid colors of October in the N Cascades were everywhere around us, and to be able to witness them amid comfortable 60 degree temperatures was a real treat. Finally we reached the steep rock headwall just below the bivy spot. The first time I climbed the NE Buttress with Steph, we found a route through the upper headwall that required only low 5th class. The second time I climbed it with Wayne and Sergio, we ran into 5.8 rock. This time, Daniel and I found ourselves in the exact same spot Wayne, Sergio, and I wound up.. staring up at ~100’ pitch of loose 5.8. Daniel drew the short straw, and led the pitch. There were some tenuous moments when Daniel got to a particularly loose section. Holds that he needed to use were barely glued into the mountain with dirt and gravel. I reminded him that I was right below him, so he was very careful not to release any rocks. He did a great job, and we were both happy with how things had gone up to this point. We reached the bivy site 10 minutes later, and set up for the night. There was no running water, so we chopped away at the icy snow with our ice axes and collected a garbage bag full of ice chunks to melt for water. We both shared a pint of whisky, and watched the sun set over Eldorado Peak and Boston Basin. I took time to reflect on a memorable climbing season, and knew this would be the last climb of the “Summer” season. The next morning we awoke with the sunrise (now around 7:15), and packed up for the final summit climb and subsequent descent back to the parking lot. The snow, again, was rock-solid.. luckily, though, the glacier hadn’t yet melted down to bare ice. We took our time ascending the precarious knife-edge arête. The arête was sharper than on my two previous ascents, and the snow much firmer. This bumped up the seriousness quite a bit. The exposure on the arête is wild.. thousands of feet down to either side, and a magnificent position with stellar views to the surrounding peaks of Cascade Pass. I was worried about bergschrund issues, and those worries became reality when we got to the schrund. A huge crack spanned nearly the entire width of the glacier, with really only one feasible weakness. We only had three ice screws with us, so climbing the 100’ vertical ice wall was out of the question. We ultimately decided to cross via a committing jump to solid ice, then a ramp through the remainder of the ‘schrund to safer ground above. Above us was the final snow slope to the summit. It is very exposed, and the hard snow made it feel pretty serious. The consistency of the snow made it such that ice screws wouldn’t hold.. it might have held vertical pickets, but we didn’t have any. Looking up, we saw some pretty solid-looking rock on the summit tower. We decided to check it out, and I’m glad we did. Two low to mid-fifth solid rock pitches allowed us to bypass the exposed, icy snow-shield finish. Standing on the summit for the fourth time was just like standing on it for the first time. The views never get ordinary or mundane. Daniel was pretty stoked as well. The smoke from the wildfires filled the valleys with a haze that made for some pretty great photography. We enjoyed the views and t-shirt weather (in October??) for about an hour, before finally deciding to begin the long, arduous descent to the parking lot. We got back to CJ Col in a little less than 2 hours from the summit, then made the long ascent to Doug’s direct. We took our time descending back to the pass, and eventually the parking lot, and savored every last bit of daylight this October Sunday could muster up. We arrived back at the parking lot around 6PM, staring up at Johannesburg in amazement. I am happy to have had the opportunity to bond with this special place again, and for the good times my friend Daniel and I were able to share. Downclimbing into the moat at the base of the NE Buttress. Looking up ahead. Daniel climbing on the lower buttress. Vertical brush. Looking up towards Cascade Peak and the C-J Col. Welcome to the jungle. Daniel around mid-buttress. Daniel high on the NE Buttress. That is the Cascade Pass parking lot down there. Typical scrambling on the upper buttress. Daniel on the 5.8 pitch. Daniel coiling the rope after the 5.8 pitch. Approaching the bivy site. The bivy at sunset. Good morning! Eldorado at dawn. Hidden Lake Peaks and Mt. Baker. Beginning the ascent of the snow arete. On the arete. Daniel enjoying the views. The upper Sill Glacier. Towards Cascade Pass. Just below the bergschrund. Looking back at the arete. Daniel and the giant bergschrund. Jumping into the 'schrund. Climbing out of the 'schrund. Looking over towards the final snow shield. Forbidden, Boston, Sahale, Buckner. Daniel at the base of the summit tower. Starting up the last two pitches. The first of the final two pitches. On the summit. Formidable, Dome, Glacier. Looking east. Daniel on the summit of Johannesburg. Starting the descent. Typical scrambling on the descent. Spider, Formidable, and the Middle Cascade Glacier. Daniel enjoying the views. Looking back at Johannesburg from the top of Doug's Direct. Pelton, Magic, and Hurry-Up.

Trip: Dorado Needle - SW Buttress Date: 8/20/2011 Trip Report: When this is your plan B, you know you live in a pretty good part of the country. Unable to secure a permit for a particularly well known locale in NCNP, Gord, Curt and myself pulled the only permit for Friday night in the Eldorado XCZ. The only one! The trail doesn't mess around, so we tried not to either, arriving at the camp at the base of the east ridge in about 5 hours. There is now a composting toilet here, and it is easy to find meltwater just east of the camps. Gord and I went up to the summit of Eldorado for the evening light and were treated to one of the best views in the park. It never gets old. We turned in pretty early anticipating a long day, and set the alarms for 0430. It came early, much too early, interrupting my dream of Concrete yahoos burning donuts by our camp (on the glacier!)with their jacked up trucks. Imagine my surprise when I only awoke to a slight breeze, stars, and endless quiet. We were off about 0545 and traversed down, around, and up to the base of the route in about 2 hours. We were climbing by 0800, and Nelson is pretty spot on with his written description of the route (the line on the photo is a bit off, however). The route is pretty long (10+ pitches) and we were glad to have rock shoes for most sections. Most of the climbing felt hard enough to pitch out, and the rope drag would be pretty bad for simul-climbing unless you were pretty close to one another. There is one pitch in particular that is stellar, and Curt enjoyed every meter of it. About as good a pitch as I have climbed anywhere in the mountains! Most of the other pitches have some looseness, but not bad at all for the mountains. It took us about 6 hours to reach the summit. On the descent, we down climbed back to a rap anchor and did a 10 and a 30m rap to the glacier. We had to swing over the gaping moat to get on the snow, but it was better than it looked from above. We quickly (well, slowly) returned back to camp (@~1700)to pack up and descend before dark. We just made it, arriving back at the car at 2015. Unfortunately Good Food was closed, as was Annie's, so we settled for Bob's in Sedro. Good burgers to round out an excellent trip!! Photos are much better than my writing though, so here is our trip, flip-book style. Let me know if you want captions. The SW side of Dorado Needle, the buttress is left of center in the photo. Taken from the summit of Eldorado the day before: Gear Notes: Medium rack to 3" seemed to work well Approach Notes: The trail just gets better by the year!