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I have been contemplating the value of writing a trip report for this for the last few months. I have landed on publishing this since I believe it will provide some insight and lessons to the climbing community here in WA and beyond. On 8/30/24 around 1am, Ian and myself headed North from Wenatchee determined to conquer the rarely climbed Wishbone Arete on the South face of Mount Robson. We met my brother, Noah, who was coming from Spokane at around 4:30 am at Lake Osooyos. From there we drove 6 more hours North through Valemount before setting eyes on the stunning South Face of Robson. This is one of the most spectacular mountain scenes I have seen in North America, and certainly the greatest from a paved road. Pulling into the parking lot at 3pm MTN time, we were a bit intimidated by the ~11,000' size of the face, but were confident we could make 5,500' up to the hut that night. This was a big objective for Ian and I, and certainly Noah's biggest challenge to date. A bit after 3pm, we set off on bikes along the 3 mile trail to Kinney Lake. Just on the other side of the lake, we ditched the bikes in the brush and started hiking up the steep forested slopes where we thought the trail to the hut might be located. After around 2,000' of thick bushwhacking, we found a clear climbers trail that I wish we would have located much earlier. The hiking is very steep from the beginning. There are a few low 5th class sections with chains bolted to the rock, and there are massive cliffs below to discourage you from falling. Once on the climbers trail, we charged another 1,000' up to the tree line and emerged on the steep scree slopes leading up to the hut. The trail disappears, but the hut was just barely visible so we knew where to aim for. There are a few more steps with low 5th class climbing and some chains to assist. We are not "aid climbers", so we of course avoided said chains. Some of the cliff bands below the hut looked quite formidable until we were right up to the base of them where a weakness suddenly became visible. Noah's sleeping bag was strapped to the outside of his pack, and at around 6,000' it came loose and tumbled down the steep slopes before going over the edge of the massive cliffs below. We trudged on knowing that a night above the hut (if required) would involve sharing Ian and I's sleeping bags three ways. At around 8,000' just as the sun was setting, we emerged on some easier scree slopes and followed the ridgeline up to the hut. Noah and Ian made dinner while I walked down the start of the traverse trail across the South face in the dark to find a waterfall and filter water. We got to bed around 9pm. Ian and I loaned Noah our puffy's to use as a modified sleeping bag, but none of us got much sleep due to the rats scurrying around in the walls and ceiling all night. We woke up at sunrise, packed up the most minimal kit possible, and started across the South face at around 6am. We intended to reach the summit that night at a minimum, which was guarded by 5,500' of steep and unknown terrain. The trail starts out well-defined but eventually fades as the loose scree gets steeper. The South face is huge, and this seemingly short traverse ended up being around a mile of side-hilling on steep loose scree and ledges. Around 8am, we finally reached an access point to the Wishbone Ridge on it's West side and boy does it look intimidating. Huge rock pinnacles on the ridge that would take days to climb over appear to block access. Nevertheless, we put on our big-boy pants and started upwards to feel things out. After some 4th class to 5.4-ish climbing on the loosest most inconsistent rock imaginable, we got out the rope and the climbing kicked back to vertical. Route finding throughout was just following path of seemingly least resistance. Every time there was a difficult obstacle, we were able to find a hidden gully or ledge to the East or West that would take us around the difficulties and put us right back on the ridge crest. The first 5.6 pitch followed a thin, loose traverse on small foot-holds to a less-than vertical valley in the rock. This led up to a small overhanging roof but there were descent (seemingly) solid handholds above to pull ourselves up and over. After two pitches we took the rope off and resumed the 4th class scrambling as the rock quality somehow got even worse. Worse than Mount Alberta. We eventually found our way up to another cliff with no way around, but an actually decent crack and solid rock. Ian led and was able to finally get in some solid protection for once, which made following much less stressful for Noah and I. This was probably the most difficult pitch of the route, but seemed like the easiest part due the occasional availability of rare pro placements. From the top of this pitch, we cut East to avoid a soaking wet cliff band and ended up finding a moderate gully and a view of the summit rime ice towers. It was around 2pm and we had around 1,500' to go. We could hear enormous avalanches thundering down the South face every 30min or so, but they were mostly obscured in the gullies to the East of the Wishbone. Unfortunately, the last 1000' of the ridge or so seemed to be covered in fresh snow, which makes for exceptionally unstable climbing on top of loose shale. This coupled with the lack of any sort of protection or anchors made for very mentally taxing climbing and we were all tired and hungry. There had not been a flat spot to rest or bivy for at least 2,500'. To make matters worse, as we came around to the East side of the ridge, the Serac's of the summit glacier came into view. We realized that the entire 1.2 mile traverse across the South face was seriously threatened by this overhead hazard, and the avalanches would rip 4000' down the face and destroy anything below. For me, this took retreating back to the hut off the table. That would not have been an appealing option anyways due to the amount of dangerous and tedious terrain we had already climbed. We decided to forgo lunch and push on to the summit in hopes of digging a snow cave to wait out the night. We climbed up the wet and loose gully for around 500' and popped out on the ridge within 1,000' of the summit. We continued upward on loose terrain. The snow build up was getting deeper, and the rock was getting slippery. We soon were using ice tools to find purchase and excavate for any sort of solid hold under the snow. We discussed using the rope, but there was no protection placement available of any kind. Even if a crack could be found for a cam or nut, the shale just broke or fell apart as soon as any pressure was applied. At around 12,500' the angle of the climbing got up to about 60 degrees as we were traversing West around a small cliff band. I decided crampons would make for safer travel and kicked in foot placements in the loose slush to transition. Ian was a ways up ahead and Noah was just around 10' above me and to my Left. Knowing we were at the limit of our abilities, I encouraged him to try and retreat back down to my foot placements and put crampons on. Just then, his feet and ice tool placements gave way, and he started sliding on all fours down the mountain. For the first couple seconds he grunted and tried to self arrest, but finding a solid hold in that terrain is nearly impossible. After a few more seconds he tumbled over the cliff band below and out of view. Knowing that the next ledge was many thousands of feet below, we knew right away that Noah was gone. I said a prayer for him in his final moments and then asked God to give me strength to succeed so that I could live out my life with my family. After a few seconds I yelled at Ian that I thought we needed to get the the summit before dark set in. I put on crampons and climbed up a bit further in Noah's footsteps. Ian reached the ridge crest and dropped me the rope. The only protection would be to have each of us on opposite sides of the ridge so that our body weight would hold a fall. Once I joined Ian on the ridge crest we were about 300' short of the summit. We somehow had cell service and I reported our situation to Jasper NP search and rescue. I told them we would be on the summit tonight, and that we would contact them in the morning. From the crest, Ian led upwards on unstable ice. The climbing got steeper and steeper until reaching a bit over 70 degrees at the crux pitch of the route. It was very unstable climbing, with one pick or one crampon placement frequently giving way. Several times I was saved by only one good placement when the other two slid away. Just below the summit there is a huge rime ice formation. We drove in a basically useless picket placement just below the formation and I led out to the East on very steep and soft snow. Once I was off to the side of the formation, a thin gully appeared just wide enough to allow passage. The rope ran out, and I yelled at Ian to pull the picket and start simul-soloing. After around 40' of climbing up the thin gully, I emerged on the exact summit of Mount Robson just as night fell. I walked over to the other side of the summit hump and belayed Ian the rest of the way up. At that point, once the immediate danger was gone, we finally lent some thought to what had just happened. I knew it was horrible but it was difficult to grasp the ramifications of losing my brother like this. Ian and I were both starving and dehydrated, but I quickly switched to my next objective of getting home to let my family know what had happened and grieve with them. I started down a hundred feet or so in complete darkness towards the direction I assumed would lead us to the dreaded South Face descent route. Luckily after about 3 minutes, Ian confidently yelled at me that this was a horrible idea and we needed to stop for the night. I am very thankful for his assertiveness because it felt like I snapped back to reality a bit and realized that he was totally right, and there was no way we would find the correct route and survive the descent in the dark. We climbed back up to the top and dug a small platform for sleeping bags. I put the rope and my pack down first and my thin foam sleeping pad over that. Luckily the night was calm and cold. There was a lot to consider laying there. Huddled in my sleeping bag, I read Psalms 40-50 on my phone and found a few comforting verses there: Psalms 40:1-5 1 I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry. 2 He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. 3 He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear the Lord and put their trust in him. 4 Blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, who does not look to the proud, to those who turn aside to false gods. Psalm 46: 1-7 1 God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. 2 Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea, 3 though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging. 4 There is a river whose streams make glad the city of God, the holy place where the Most High dwells. 5 God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day. 6 Nations are in uproar, kingdoms fall; he lifts his voice, the earth melts. 7 The Lord Almighty is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress. Sometime after midnight, I was able to get a few hours of sleep due to complete exhaustion. We called SAR around 7am to update our location. They asked if they would be able to send a helicopter to retrieve us to which we agreed. Just after 8am, a helicopter buzzed the summit and made an incredible landing in a tiny saddle just 50' or so below us. We loaded our gear in and flew down to the bottom of the mountain in a matter of minutes. I was very thankful to not have had to take the dangerous and tedious descent route back down. We received a police interview at the ranger station, and a kind ranger drove us down the trail in a side-by-side to retrieve the three bikes. This was certainly the most dangerous route Ian and I have ever done, and honestly is the first one I can say that should never be climbed again. There is just no safe way to climb it. There is next to no protection the entire time and due to the rock quality you are basically just rolling the dice on every hold. The slush over the top made it totally unsafe, but there is not really a feasible retreat from that high on the mountain. On top of the completely insecure climbing, there are massive objective hazards throughout. If you are considering climbing Mount Robson, find another route. It is incredibly beautiful, and I would encourage anyone to try maybe Emperor Ridge or the Kain Face as I have heard much more positive reviews of those routes. This will be my last trip report of this scale, as I am stepping away from serious climbing to prioritize family. None of us have experienced the death of a close family member. We are finding that the only joy can be found through God's promise in the bible that those who believe in him will spend eternity in paradise. Romans 10:9: 9 If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. I am posting this as some sort of closure to my climbing career and to remember Noah. It is hard to describe the impact Noah had on his family, hometown, and group of friends in Spokane here. Back in September we had a funeral ceremony for him at our local church that is captured on video: There are some profound reflections on death, and how this has impacted our family vs how death is viewed by the majority of secular society. I think it did a great job of honoring the incredible work of Noah's life and the impact he had on the people around him.

Trip: Kings Peak - Via Henrys Fork Trip Date: 07/04/2024 Trip Report: After Borah, we drove south for a few days swimming at Bear Lake (recommended) and fossil hunting around Kemmerer, WY (also recommended) before settling in Lyman, WY for the night to prepare for a three day trip to climb Kings Peak over the 4th of July. Although people do the 25+ mile RT in a day, I figured with the altitude that a more leisurely itinerary would be much more family friendly. In the end, this was a good call. Any way you approach it, Kings Peak is way back in there. We chose the most shortest and most popular approach via Henrys Fork and it was a pretty mellow ramble of about 9 miles to a tarn just beyond the masses at Dollar Lake. The first night we had it all to ourselves and it was a glorious spot (~11,000) to take in the views, which included KIngs, about five miles away. Kings Peak from camp: The next morning dawned clear and still, but this area is known for thunderstorms so we didn't waste (too) much time getting out of camp and up the hill while the day was young. I had been worried about how much snow we would encounter on our way to Gunsight Pass (~12,000), but we only needed to cross a few small sections, all with steps beat in. All the snow we encountered was pretty hard and icy in the early morning so if there is more snow you'll need to plan accordingly. When you reach Gunsight Pass there are two ways to reach Kings- short and long. We chose the shortcut which angles up steeply and right from the pass, mostly on a climbers path, but also with some rock hopping and scrambling. In the end, this was probably the better way to go, though it seemed to be not much faster than dropping down and around (we saw another party do this just ahead of us). As we climbed higher, the views got wider and the day remained perfect. No thunderstorms to worry about as we meandered upwards, talking about how different the Uintas are compared to the North Cascades. A bit of minor scrambling along the summit ridge brought us to the top of Utah late in the morning. After another couple parties left, we had the summit to ourselves for about an hour. I was a bit surprised at the lack of crowds, given that it was the 4th of July, but we found them that evening back at camp, ready to climb it on the 5th. Reversing the route back to camp was simple and much easier that wheezing upwards and we were treated to another calm and beautiful evening back at camp, with a dozen more tents scattered around. The State high points are not lonesome! All the remained for us the final morning was a quick hike back to the car and then off to Nevada and a few more summits.... Don't let them fool you, they could hike for another 10 miles with enough sugar and bad jokes. Gear Notes: hiking poles Approach Notes: Follow the masses up Henrys Fork. All the beta is found here: https://www.roadtripryan.com/go/t/utah/northern-utah/kings-peak

Trip: Peak Argonaut - NE Couloir (with East Summit) Trip Date: 01/12/2025 Trip Report: Peak Argonaut: North East Couloir (with East Summit). 01/12/2025 Gear Notes: 2 technical tools each 60 m rope 1 picket – did not use Single rock rack up to #2 3 middle sized hexes Nuts – did not use 8 draws 3 pins – did not use Rappel webbing with rings Approach Notes: Snowshoes

Trip: Borah Peak - Southwest - "Chicken Out"- Ridge Trip Date: 06/29/2024 Trip Report: This past summer I went on a month long, 4300+ mile, road trip with the family all over the West. Mostly we were seeing National Parks that my wife and kids had never been to, but I managed to plan 3 state high points into the itinerary. Borah Peak (12,662') was the first up, coming after a tour through Yellowstone and Grand Teton National Parks. As with all the state high points, Borah has an abundance of beta online so I'll spare you all the nerdy details and mostly share impressions and photos. First, I thought this was a peak worth doing. There is fantastic camping close by at the Joe Fallini Campground, which is cheap and right on a lake with decent swimming and fishing. This campground is about a 30m drive to the trailhead (if you don't blast past it like we did), which puts you in easy striking distance for an alpine start. The views start quickly and expand. There aren't a lot of trees in the Lost River Range and it was fun to see an entirely different range where I basically knew none of the summits. Soon we were up above treeline and the aptly named "Chicken Out" ridge came into view: As did Mt. Morrison: At the base of the knife edge portion of the ridge, my wife and youngest opted to turn back but surprisingly my oldest stuck right on my tail. I had a quick chat with him to make sure he understood that while it wasn't overly difficult (exposed 3rd/4th class), a fall would likely be very, very bad. He said he was fine and was moving calmly and confidently, and so we continued upward. Where the knife edge ends, there was a small snow saddle to cross. Again, not hard, but with a terrible and steep runout. Again, another chat. This time I insisted in tying on a 30m length of 6mm cord I had brought so as to keep my son from a very long ride should he slip out of the steps and not arrest. Of course, he was fine, but I felt better with the added security. And then the real slogging began. We were over 11k with the summit in sight, and surprisingly all by ourselves. My son began to slow way down in the thin air. It was by far the highest he had ever been but appeared to be in good spirits and so we just kept chugging upwards. And then, we made it, finding one other dude up there taking a nap. I think we may have surprised him. We hung around in excellent weather for at least an hour, reading the register, taking in the views, and generally enjoying a perfect day on a high peak. It doesn't get much better! But, of course, all good things must end and so we turned around to begin the 5k+ of downward staggering. Here's a view back at the summit after we had dropped about 1500': And then to reverse Chicken Out Ridge.... of which I was a bit nervous for my son, but he of course thought that it was all just a great adventure: Looking back at the upper mountain from just above treeline: We finished the day back at Joe Fallini Campground, treated to a beautiful sunset as the cattle lowed in the distance. The next day we would begin the trek SE to King's Peak in Utah for a 4th of July Ascent (in the next installment!)... Gear Notes: Poles, helmet (optional), crampons/axe if snowy Approach Notes: The trailhead is located north of Mackay, Idaho along US-93. Look for the signed turn between Mile Markers 129 and 130. Drive to the end of the road where there is camping and an outhouse. It is a bit grungy there, however, and much preferred BLM's Joe Fallini Campground close by.

Trip: Forbidden via Silver Creek: Warm Tales from Summer - ... Trip Date: 07/22/2024 Trip Report: It started as an attempt to link the alpine zones from the Chilliwacks to Glacier Peak. It became a ten day approach to Boston Basin. So many fires... A week in, we pivoted to go Isolation-Forbidden-Inspiration after crossing hwy 20. With all of the traditional access closed, we should have it all to ourselves..and since Forbidden can be climbed with just a glacier kit, why not take advantage of a rare opportunity at solitude on a classic? Hour 26 of that day's effort. I think everyone gets benighted from time to time. But you gotta really fuck it up to also get bemorninged. But before all that we enjoyed a sunny float to the north end of Ross Lake... Silver creek. Henceforth "shit valley". Interesting relics...wonder what the story is Life getting a lot better by this point Nodoubt about it- our pace really put the "chill" in Chilliwack It doesnt look that Furry to me? But you do Luna lot out here And from the other side We'll Pick-it up from here in the morning Obpicketory south side shot We took a day off at the highway. We said it was for "weather". But really it was for pizza. Getting Isolated...except from the piss fiends Mosquito heaven Pickets from their softer side And El Dorado from its harder side Pioneer fire was ripping this day Eventually we'd get to business. His first ever pitch of roped climbing was a memorable one... A look at where we had come... And the work left undone Gear Notes: a glorified backpacking set up Approach Notes: really long

your in luck im on my way! making a west face attempt this sunday and i cant have anything holding me back! im far too out of shape 🤣

If anyone is thinking of Colfax with this high pressure. As of 1/13 the Cosley-Houston is not formed, though the Polish Route looks like it may have connected. North and east side of Lincoln look like the future of local Alpinism.

Hey Eli I just stumbled upon this, I am sending good thoughts to you. I lost my son in June 2024, his irish twin brother has had it the hardest. I can somewhat understand and relate to what your family is feeling. Something I have learned on my journey through this dark time, Is that it doesn't get better per say more so different. Eventually the hard thoughts bring a different emotion instead of pain. The things that use to make us fall apart make us miss them and will bring some peace. It will always hurt yet it will eventually not physically hurt so bad. We all make choices in our lives, your brother made a choice of his own do not let the dark thoughts and the what if's take you down a rabbit hole. Seek support either group or individual. In my familys loss of a child or sibling group some people have been going for 5-6 years. They are not weak, we all grieve differently and at different speeds. . l know how hard writing this probably hit you, how emotionally taxing it is. Please feel free to reach out to me, for a ear, a hike, or a resource. I live on the south west side of Washington but currently vantage living the week in Vantage/Moses. You did what you could, don't let the dark thoughts win, hold your head up and focus your energy on doing the next thing. Maybe climbing be enjoyable maybe not either its not a right now thing.

I’ve had little to no motivation for TR writing this last year, but figured I should try and get this story out into the world before I forget some of the fun details. Last April Eli Spitulnik and I flew onto the Ruth Glacier with about five weeks of food. We hoped to stay there until it warmed up, then bump to the Tokositna to do some climbing on Huntington. We got deposited right next to a very cold and dejected Brit and Slovene. The winter cold was still holding on strong, with nightly winds burying our camps regardless of how recently it snowed. Tom and Gasper had been there for about a week already and spun tales of vertical sugar snow and towering snow mushrooms. Their attempts on Blood from the Stone, and the direct start to RGG were valiant, but fruitless. Huge thanks to basecamp gear sponsor Kurt Ross. Chamonix style storm day skiing with Tom and Gasper. Who needs a pack anyways? Scouting. After almost two weeks and various attempts on other routes, we began skiing towards the SE face of Bradley at about 3 in the afternoon. Along for the ride was 3 days of food and a rack suitable for El Cap. Our intended line would start on Vitalogy (Zimmerman/Allen 2010) to gain the hanging snowfield in the middle of the face. Once there, we would climb more or less straight up the center of the face intending to finish in a couloir that would take us to the summit ridge. Day 1.) Following the same night climbing method as Graham and Mark, we hung out below the face as it went into the shade. Watching and listening as it calmed down for the night. Once things fell quiet, we began up the approach ramp. At the end of the ramp was a cave guarded by a 25ft tall overhanging mushroom. Still in simul mode, I fiddled in a small nest of gear and began pulling some steep mixed moves to surpass the overhanging portion of the shroom. From off to the side and around a corner 60m away, Eli heard a faint “watch me!” as I hung my pack off a beak and committed out onto the face of the shroom. Kicking myself for leaving the picket at camp, I beat the mushroom into submission until I was able to flop over and into the cave. Downclimbing from a gear cache on an early "false start". The weather changed and we decided to retrieve our rack the next morning and pivot to a different objective. The start ramp continues out left. Eli mantles onto my pack before stepping out right onto the mushroom. The next few pitches were some of the most brilliant mixed climbing I’ve done outside of a crag setting. A perfectly splitter slightly overhanging #4 crack, and short pendulum took us out towards the lip of the cave, where ice blobs allowed for an easy exit. A pitch of junky slush and a short traverse (dubbed M5R in the Vitalogy topo) took us to the M6 turf flakes pitch. A wonderfully long series of dirt filled grooves and flakes just frozen enough to get good sticks. By the time Eli made it up to the belay it was officially dark. Eli pulled on his rock shoes and took the lead. He took us out right up a well protected corner that gained a pillar, then up and right out into the slabs below the snowfield. Following in my crampons, I scratched my way up to the most heinous hanging belay. Balancing on crystals in my mono points I belayed as Eli swapped back into boots and began a long extremely runout traverse crossing fingers of barely refrozen snow over slab to gain the snowfield. Desperately sliding out of glassy fists. Delicious blobs Glorious turf At one point while readjusting to keep my legs from falling asleep I turned around to see the sky erupting in green and purple stripes. I shouted into the darkness to look at the sky. A distant hoot followed a moment later and I began lowering out the bags. The rest of the night was a blur of unprotected wallowing up crusty sun-baked facets in an attempt to reach the prow bivy before sunrise. Staring at the rope snake off into the darkness I weighed my options of preparing to unclip in the event of a fall, or try and catch a 120m whip. We arrived at the bivy just before sunrise. My perception of time is beginning to slip. Day 2 After a restless few hours festering in the tent listening to wet slides, we began prepping for another night of climbing. This time we would be leaving behind the comfort of previously traveled terrain and entering an unknown world. Bailing from above the snowfield while likely not impossible, would have been a bad time. More sparsely protected snow climbing took us up to a flared and wet crack feature that Eli dispatched fairly easily in his rock shoes. From there a few pitches of engaging mixed climbing took us to what I expected to be the crux of the route. From photos, a large snow plastered double corner system seemed to be the most obvious way, but it would likely involve some gross aid climbing tactics. We arrived below the feature in fading light as night two began. It looked so much worse up close than from afar. In a last-ditch effort to find an alternative, I traversed left looking for anything else. As I swam my way around the corner, a pillar revealed itself with a perfect wide crack and thin seam alongside it. It didn’t entirely look like it went all the way, but it was a good next step. With high hopes I began trying to free climb my way to the top of the pillar. The climbing was wonderful, but as soon as my feet began to skate off the sloping edges, all style went out the window. I took my crampons off and went full aid mode. From the top of the pillar, the seam kept going as the angle lessened. A mixture of direct aiding off of my tools and free moves on massive granite jugs took me to a generous belay stance. We were likely through the hardest pitch, but still had a lot of mountain above us. Some slab climbing in double boots took me to a delaminated slabby smear of ice. I equalized two garbage beaks and put my crampons back on. Despite my best efforts at being gentle, my beyond dull picks threatened to send me, and this detached smear down the mountain as every kick and swing bounced off. The next several pitches were a lesson in route finding as Eli took us up down and around to the main gut of the face above. I still don’t know where the best way to go was, but a diagonal rappel and some faff took us where we wanted to go. The sun began to rise as we entered a massive funnel that was invisible in the pictures we had. Afraid we’d be swept away if we lingered too long, we shifted into gear and made it to a semi protected bivy before anything had a chance to warm up and start falling. The massive snow choked chimney is visible in the background. When in doubt, traverse. Another restless day of napping came and went without any surprises. At this height, the mountain was much quieter and felt less affected by the sun. At some point in the day, Eli was awoken by a loud rumbling from over in the direction of Mt Wake. He mumbled 6/10 and rolled over back to sleep. A shovel would have been nice. Day (night?) 3 We started climbing at about 5:30 with several pitches of quality mixed and neve climbing. At some point I was pounding a pin when the hammer of my tool snapped off and flew into the abyss. Mildly perturbed I shrugged and continued bashing the hopelessly bottomed out beak with the back of my tool. All around the same time, the sun set, the snow began to fall, and the trenching began. Juuuust enough ice. After a long cold belay, I took over the lead and made one of the biggest rookie mistakes. I had just followed the previous pitch in my down parka but was still chilled, so I chose to start leading the next pitch with it still on. It was some of the most awful steep snow climbing I hope to ever experience. As the snowfall picked up, so did the spindrift. It smacked me in the face and dumped down the back of my parka, melting against my back and freezing the down solid. I was in no position to stop and take my pack off, so just suffered until I could get a belay out of the firing line. One block later we made it to a sheltered flat spot and decided to call it a day. We knew the storm was going to be short lived, so opted to wait it out and continue when we had a better idea of where we were on the mountain. Beginning another pitch of trenching Spindrift avalanches lulled us to sleep as they scraped over the top of our tent. After about ten hours, the storm seemed to be subsiding. Slightly worried about our skis getting buried at the base, I texted Tom asking if he could go check on them for us. WET Day 4 Two long simul blocks took us to the summit, where swirling clouds gave us brief glimpses over towards Hunter, Huntington and Denali. In an attempt to investigate how overhung the summit cornice was, I tiptoed my way around on relatively flat ground until I could see the other side. I must have taken one step too far, because the next thing I knew I was in freefall. I came to rest about 25 feet down in soft powder with snow filling my glasses. Unharmed, I frantically clawed my way out of the maw. Once free, I damn near fell back into the thing crossing back over to uphill side. Once in earshot of Eli I shouted over to him that I was okay. He just looked at me with a confused gaze that told me he had no idea I'd just fallen. There was so much slack in the system at that point that he didn’t feel a thing. Now I know that summit crevasses exist. Big D showing off. The "let's get the fuck out of here" thumbs up. After a few celebratory summit photos and facetimes with Eli’s family and my partner, we began down. The descent was supposed to be easy, but we knew of a few parties who had epics getting down. It proved to be mostly walking and easy downclimbing. A few easy rappels got us to, and down from the Bradley-Wake col, where we slogged back to our skis at the base. Where's Waldo? How not to back up a V-thread. Upon arrival at our skis, we were greeted with an unexpected sight. ONLY my skis, poles and one skin were stuck in the snow surrounded by evidence of extensive digging and stomping. A ziplock bag with a few jelly bellies and a twix bar were stuck in between the skis. Mildly strung out despite our long sleep the night before, we theorized what could have possibly happened and messaged Tom. 6/10 While repacking, I stumbled across one additional ski buried under the snow, followed shortly by both of Eli’s poles. It wasn’t going to be easy getting back, but at least it wasn’t going to be awful. We limped back into camp at 11:50pm. Happy and ready to lay down for a while. We named our route "sports" due to the ridiculous grade that the route got. Rock climbing, mixed climbing, ice climbing, aid climbing... snow climbing. All the sports. Not to mention the equally ridiculous song "Sports" by the Viagra Boys that kept making an appearance throughout the trip. 3 days later after plenty of rest, we bid Tom and Gasper a farewell and skied over to search for the missing ski and skin. We found the skin nearly 100m down glacier, the ski itself had been blown almost 30 meters from where we left it. Gear drying Style Eli scavenging for leftover food. The lower face had already melted out considerably in the days since we were on it. I'm guessing our traverse to the snowfield on the first day was likely gone the next. That same evening there was an accident on Mount Johnson. The next morning, we woke to the sound of a helicopter and messages from Kevin explaining the situation. We packed up for a rescue, not knowing what would be needed and began skiing down glacier. Clouds were threatening to thwart the helicopter rescue. By the time we got there, Kevin and Louie were already on their way down. We helped coil ropes, feed them and carry back the other party's gear. During our time before Bradley, we attempted “On the Frozen roads of our incertitude” on London tower. Mildly gripped Bailing We successfully climbed “Freezy nuts” to the summit of London Tower First tunnel of the trip Summit of London tower Attempted “Shaken not Stirred” on the Mooses Tooth in a push from our basecamp below Bradley. We made it one pitch from the col but turned around because of continually horrendous snow conditions. 24hrs camp to camp. Crux pitch. Felt like M7 conditions. Ropes going everywhere you don't want them to. Getting psyched to ski back down into the Ruth. After Bradley we flew to the Kahiltna and made a half assed attempt on the Bibler-Klewin on Hunter. Great conditions if you don't mind having no pro. Climbed “It’s Included” on Radio Control Tower 1.5 times. Digging the tunnel through the P2 cornice that was used for most of the ascents throughout the season. A solid 2 hour lead. Weather became continuously poor at the beginning of May, so we escaped while we still had a chance and became the bunk house locals until we could get a ride back to Anchorage.

Holy shit. Polish hadn’t even crossed my mind. Any pictures of Kimchi Suicide?

I'm so sorry for your loss Eli. What a sobering reminder to cherish the time you have with loved ones and a to have a healthy respect for the mountains. Thank you for sharing your story

Man Eli. I'm sorry for you and your family.

Hey Eli, Thanks for posting your TR. A couple of friends and I climbed the Wishbone Arete in 1986. I've attached one photo I converted from a slide image. Interestingly, while at the southside hut we found a note to an unknown climbing partner telling the person that they were descending but were concerned. We never heard anything more about that but did see helicopters occasionally flying nearby while we were climbing. I hear the park service is working on the trail system due to prior damages.

Man this must have been hard to put down in writing. Love to you, your family, and Ian.

I am very sorry for the loss of your brother @eeelip- I am sure this was a hard TR to write. I appreciate the reminder that climbing is a dangerous game, and that when things go wrong, there are wide ramifications. I hope Noah's passing gets a little less harsh with time, and that your faith can continue to comfort you and your family.

Thanks folks. Great additions (maybe I should object more since this is spray?) Here's an interview with Doorish and Burdo that covers a bunch of PNW history. https://becominghumanpodcast.com/episodes/highroutesandsportclimbs

This one is highly recommended. All of these come with the caveat of needing low avalanche danger forecast which happens to coincide with good climbing conditions (firm snow).

The Zipper is a good one.... Whistler Peak, East gully (bit of mixed 4th to the summit) North Couloir on McClellan Butte (some mixed spice at the top) Big Four, Dry Creek Route (also spicy up high) North Buttress Couloir on Colchuck. Sherpa Peak, NE Couloir (bit of 5th at the very summit) East Face ramp on Harvey up in BC, when it gets fat. Early season there is some ice climbing. Not couloirs...but NF of Maude, NF of Observation Rock East gullies on Mount Angeles in the Olympics. Sort of less moderate, since there is glacier travel (but it is often soloed), Leuthold's Couloir on Hood. The Cascades aren't really known for couloirs, but most everything in the spring has steep snow somewhere on it and could be viewed as a challenge.

The bugs weren't AK bad when we were there, but I suppose it varies a lot by the time of year and how wet it has been. I don't remember Overhanging Tower very much so probably not too bad nor too good of rock! Wolf's Head and Pingora have excellent rock though.

Oh I'm sure your kid could make it happen @Lostbolt! My boys were 14 and 16 last summer and the three day pace didn't push them- it was pretty casual.

Great Report it gave my middle son some much needed stoke.

Awesome, the apple really doesn't fall too far from the tree.

You’re teaching the youth to feed his rat! Great photos as always. Thank you Jason.

A Google search led me to this site today, and this is my first post here. No one on this site knows me and with what I am about to post I understand why there will be people who are skeptical of this story... I am going to be deliberately vague at this time because I need to figure out the best way to present my geologic discovery to the world. Here is a summary of the discovery and an explanation of why I am not revealing the details until approximately November of this year: In the summer, I manage helicopters (Helitack) for the U.S. Forest Service on wildfire assignments. I spend weeks on end flying in helicopters all across the U.S.A. During the summer of 2010, I was managing a helicopter on a wildfire here in Oregon (I live here and I am a native Oregonian). During that assignment we had a mission to pick up two government resource advisors at a location in a wilderness area, and fly them to the fire line. Because of dense smoke we had to fly miles off course and circle back to the site where we were going to pick up the two resource advisors. During that detour, we fly low through some drainages to avoid smoke that was higher. Deep in the wilderness area, but not close to any trails, I spotted an amazing and significant geologic feature. I marked the coordinates on my Garmin GPS. The view from the helicopter was fleeting. The winds were squirrelly and we had a mission to complete so we were not able to hover and take an extensive look. The first thing that many people will think is that there are no significant undiscovered places in Oregon. People have told me that "every square inch of Oregon has been explored." Some examples: It is logical to believe that there are no undiscovered waterfalls in Oregon that are higher than Multnomah Falls? Or limestone caves that are larger than Oregon Caves? Those are just examples - I did not discover a record breaking waterfall or a limestone cave. However, the stunning site that I discovered is not only rare in the northwest; it is also more spectacular than the other similar known geologic features in Oregon. After the 2010 wildfire season wound down; in September, 2010, a friend and I attempted to backpack to the site that I discovered from the air. After a grueling seven hour hike (no trails), we set up a base camp approximately 1.5 miles from the geologic site. The next day (carrying basic survival and photography gear in our day packs) we attempted to reach the site but at only 0.34 miles from our goal we were stopped by an obstacle that we did not anticipate. This obstacle required technical rock climbing equipment to get past. My friend and I are explorers and backpackers, but we are not climbers. So the 2010 "expedition" was a failure. And a huge disappointment to me. In the four years since, you could say that I have been obsessed with reaching and photographing that site. Work and other commitments kept me from organizing a second attempt until last week. This time, two rock climbers (with climbing gear) came with me. We set up a base camp at the same place where I camped in 2010. The next day (Saturday, July 12) we successfully reached the site. It took four hours from the base camp to cover the 1.5 mile distance to the site. We spent about one hour exploring and photographing the site, and then another four hours to make it back to our base camp just before dark. We spent a second night at the base camp and hiked out yesterday (July 13). From the ground, the site was everything and more that I had hoped it would be. Awesome and stunning are good descriptors. I believe this site will become famous. Hard core backpackers and climbers will want to go there. Why am I posting this here and not disclosing the details? OK, I am not saying this compares to Hillary's summit of Mt. Everest, nor Admundsen reaching the South Pole. But for the Pacific northwest, especially Oregon, this is an amazing discovery! I am organizing my photographs and planning to write a full account of the expedition. When I have it all organized, I will disclose everything; maps, photos, GPS coordinates, routes, etc. Which brings me back to the reason for posting this. What would be the best way to present this to the public? An article in Outside or Backpacker magazine? Or is there a good regional magazine? Or the OPB TV program "Oregon Field Guide"? Maybe I could even get National Geographic interested in covering the story... Presenting it in a public setting, similar to a slide show, is another way that I would consider. However I do not belong to any club such as the Mazamas. I hope I have stirred interest with this mysterious post, and that someone will have some contacts or suggestions on ways to share this amazing find with the world.

I'll buy it! Will send you an email....

Thanks for all of the information it has been really helpful! After a lot of research, I think that the timing of a summit and downclimb via a route as technical as the Wy'East with skiing the Newton Clark headwall is going to be too tight to have a good margin for safety. If I had experience climbing the Wy'East route, and knew exactly how long the climb and downclimb would take it might be a different story. However, I don't want to rush the climb (and downclimb) of a route as exposed as Wy'East, nor do I want to ski the Newton Clark headwall when there is high risk of causing a wet slab avalanche. Especially when (depending on the year) there is some crevasse hazards on the Newton Clark headwall. At the end of the day, for me, its better to plan these two objectives on separate days to ensure that risk is kept within a manageable zone. @bedellympian you are correct, the fact that the Newton Clark headwall is one of the 50 classic ski descents did factor in to my decision. I had the opportunity last year ski a different 50 line (summit Young's Peak in Rogers Pass, BC and ski down the Seven Steps to Paradise). It was the best back country run I've ever skied, and figured it would be great to see if another 50 line is as good. @Fairweather Thanks for the suggestion re the Cooper Spur, I will look into that line a bit more for sure! Since I have spent a considerable amount of time researching the Wy'East route, and because everyone on this board has been so helpful, I figured it would be a good idea to consolidate some of my research here to show how serious the route is and to assist anyone else trying to climb this route. I will state that a summit via the Wy'East route is a pretty serious objective with a fair amount of exposure. The below research is meant to assist people with understanding the seriousness of the route, and to help them understand what they would be getting themselves in to if they do attempt it. I make no warranties or representations about the accuracy of the information. Any potential climbers need to also conduct their own research and make an informed decision on whether or not to take on the risk, and whether or not they have the skills necessary to climb it. Getting to the first Crux: The first resource should be the Mt Hood Climber's Guide by Bill Mullee. It gives a great overview of the route with some general descriptions. Although I found the descriptions and photos to be lacking in detail, it definately gave me a good starting place to do research. The guidebook suggests leaving from Timerbline and crossing the White River glacier at 7100'. If leaving from Meadows Caltopo maps show a few paths that appear reasonable. I have highlighted the first crux on the map with a red star. (Map from CalTopo with Google Satellite baselayer, the map builder overlay, with countours and slope angle shading. I've attached the top down map as well. same parameters as the map above, just with 3d turned off. When climbing to ski the Newton Clark Headwall, Cody Townsend and Michelle Parker chose to start at Meadows: When climbing the Wy'East route and skiing from the summit (including the Newton Clark headwall - absolutely crazy), Michael Wirth also left from Meadows: There are some really good photos on MountainProject.com of some of the aspects below the first crux. Photos and information here: https://www.mountainproject.com/route/106202622/wyeast Chris Comair has a blog post on climbing the devil's kitchen headwall and Wy'East. I found the photos and information concerning the Wy'East route to be quite helpful. it can be found here: https://gethighonaltitude.com/2020/05/15/mt-hood-flying-buttress-wyeast/ There is one particular photo I found in Chris' blog post that shows the terrain before the first crux well (photo appears to have been taken from the first crux looking down): (Photo by Chris Comair from his blog referenced above) The First Crux: In terms of the first crux (the traverse) I found a few good pieces of information and some photos. There were two photos posted by Scott Branscum on the MountainProject.com link referenced above: (Photos by Scott Branscum uploaded to MountainProject.com link referenced above) It is worth noting that the Mount Hood Climber's guide by Bill Mullee states that it is usually best to stay low on this traverse (which appears to be the route advocated for in Scott's photos). In his Blog post, Chris Comair suggests a different route over the first crux than the route suggested by Scott in his photos. Chris is climbing the route at a different time of year than Scott, but his logic behind the route choice (while not stated explicitly) appears to be to minimize the size of the fall if one occurs by climbing above a smaller cliff. Chris advocates for this route: (Photo by Chris Comair in his blog post referenced above) The Rising Traverse: Once above the first crux, there is a rising traverse to the summit. According to the Mt. Hood Climber's Guide by Bill Mullee, there are some gullies to the climber's left (above you)but these are dead end ice chutes so don't be lured upwards too soon. A general map of the traverse can be found below (Note how exposed this is, an avalanche or uncaught fall on this portion of the route doesn't seem survivable) (Photo from Mt Hood Climber's Guide written by Bill Mullee) I have scoured youtube to try to find different perspectives of climbing the route to try to get an idea of what protection people are using for this rising traverse. At least one video showed roping up and using pickets for the rising traverse: The Chimney: After the traverse is done and you've reached the chimney, Chris's blog suggests going straight up instead of continuing to traverse: (Photo by Chris Comair from his blog post referenced above) It seems like once you reach the chimney, keeping a bit climber's left, its straight climb to the east summit ridge: (Photo by Bob Pool posted to MountainProject.com at the link referenced above) Here's a video showing the top portion of the route: another video showing the top portion of the route: Other helpful links: - https://www.summitpost.org/wy-east/157708 - https://mazamas.org/activity/70/ If I've missed something feel free to add it. Again, information is provided to show how serious the route is and each person needs to conduct their own research to decide if they are capable of climbing it. I make no claims about the accuracy of the information either, I have merely compiled what I found into one place. Climb at your own risk.

They were right. The best ice in Washington is in Montana! Dribbles in Hyalite Wednesday Dec. 11! Stoked to be ready for ice season in the Cascades tho! If your willing to suffer a lot and/or have a sled send me a message. I have a sled and stoke and a weird love for being cold and scared 🤘🏿

Trip: Baffin Island - Auyuittuq Trip Date: 08/02/2024 Trip Report: Prologue If a memory cannot be refuted by evidence than it must be the truth so I present this memory as such even if I have some misgivings whether it is in fact the case. I entered Western Washington University in 1991 and as a freshman living on campus I would frequently find myself in the Wilson Library thumbing through what already felt like an antiquated copy of Doug Scott’s “Big Wall Climbing”. Published in 1974 it was only seventeen years old but felt a world apart from the climbing culture and techniques of the early 1990’s. Within a chapter entitled “The Development of Big Wall Climbing in Remote Regions” the author had written a detailed description of his recent expeditions to Baffin Island. And I would claim it was here I first became aware of Mount Asgard. Asgard, a tremendous granite turret with an ice-covered summit plateau rearing 3,000 vertical feet out of an endless labyrinth of glacier ice. The “Scott Route”, a 4,000 foot-long free climb following a beautifully sculpted pillar of exquisite granite. This was clearly a route I wanted to climb. In fact it was The Route I wanted to climb and for over thirty years it always remained as such. A fantasy at the top of my bucket list exceeding the ability, vision or time I had available at different stages of my life. A transcription of our logbook entry at the Thor Emergency Shelter written on July 28th, 2024 We arrived in Pangnirtung on July 3rd. A healthy snowpack and a cool spring had left the mountains still draped in snow and the head of the fjord still covered in ice. A fortunate warm and windy day broke up the ice and on July 5th we entered the park, arriving here on the 6th under cold, leaden skies in a stiff wind Establishing basecamp, we were then unknowingly blessed with largely cool dry days that alternated between overcast and windy or quiet and partly cloudy. The ice slowly melted from the river, the snow on the peaks melting even slower. The first wildflowers bloomed and the days grew perceptibly warmer, Via both success and failure we developed our understanding of these mountains. Huge approaches, difficult climbing, long descents. On our second attempt we climbing the southwest ridge of Mount Menhir, the looming monolith just west of the hut. We were also fortunate to establish two first ascents on impeccable rock with relatively easy access and quick descents. On the large slab wall approximately 40 minutes up valley we linked beautiful splitters into a ten pitch 5.9 we called “Pang Ten”. Later we climbed it again and added sturdy rap anchors. With a twenty minute approach from the trail and no summit it’s a crag climb on Baffin! Above “Pang Ten” we eyed the beautiful flowing east buttress of the East Tower of Northumbria. From the hut here it’s the right skyline of the rightmost peak of the Northumbria group. With binoculars you can pick out the extensive splitters we climbed just this side of the skyline. Eight pitches of moderate 5.8-5.9 climbing on the most perfect rock. Just pure fun and now setup with solid rap stations. The link up of these two routes would make for an amazing Grade V climb without the extensive approaches or difficult descents of other long routes. Highly recommended! July 19th through the 22nd brought the stable, clear weather climbers dream of on Baffin. A long casual approach with a nice siesta at Summit Lake took us to a high bivi on a thankfully melted out Caribou Glacier. Starting at 1 am on the 20th we approached the fabled Scott Route on the North Summit of Asgard. 1200 meters of climbing over 23 pitches took us to the summit at 10 pm. Witness to a spectacular sunset, an endless sea of jagged peaks like diamonds in the periwinkle glow of the midnight sun. Being on that summit is as “out there” as we’ve ever been. The descent was long and tenuous with terrible snow conditions. We returned to our high camp 30 hours after leaving it. Since then the weather has deteriorated into more typical Baffin conditions, lots of rain, snow in the mountains and strong winds. Thoughts turn to home and family as our remaining days here melt into one another. Yesterday we hauled our first load out to Schartzenbach Falls, tomorrow on the 29th we leave for good. Our stay here has been perfect. So many memories. The intensity and beauty of the high peaks balanced by many wonderful rest days here around the hut, mending clothes, doing laundry, cooking, reading and soaking in the views. The world is vast and we may never return to this location again but our memories will always be of much contentment here, we wanted for nothing. Darin Berdinka (Bellingham, WA) & Owen Lunz (Lafayette, CO) 7/6/24-7/29/24 View up fjord upon arrival in Pang Starting the approach in inclement weather Basecamped next to and occasionally in the Thor Emergency Shelter. Mount Menhir in background. Left skyline is SW Ridge V 5.9. Starting up the southwest ridge of Menhir. Twelve pitches. Possibly 3rd ascent based on archeological assessment of rappel tat. Supernatural alpine beauty Pano from basecamp. Menhir on left, multiple summits of Northumbria on right. Looking up the Active Recovery Wall. Forty minutes up valley of the Thor Hut. Surprised to find no evidence of prior passage. Pitch 5 or so, climbing perfect splitters. Enjoyable corners high on the slab. Thor in background. Top of the slab. A few days later we'd climb the clean 1200' buttress just right of Owen. Approaching the East Tower of Northumbria. Pulling through a roof on perfect locks and crimps. Most of the climbing was in lovely splitters on the best imaginable rock. Summit views out over largely untrodden peaks. View out over Weasel River Valley with Thor across the way once again. View down valley from Summit Lake Emergency Nap in the Emergency Adirondack Chairs at the Summit Lake Emergency Shelter. Looking out over the Parade Glacier at 3 am. Asgard on left. Frigga on right. Another party was establishing a new A5 route on the left most pillar of Frigga that day. Asgard. Route started along right side of square snowpatch. 2nd pitch. Runout slabs. I look stupid in this photo but it does provide an excellent view of the upper pillar. Abandoned equipment high on the route. What epic unfolded here? 2nd to last pitch. Wet, wide and exhausting. Sunset view from just below summit. The artic gloaming. Loki in foreground. Epilogue So on a lovely day in the summer of 2024, several weeks after having climbed Asgard via the Scott Route I returned to the Wilson Library to see if I could track down the book. The library and its grounds felt little changed and somewhat surprisingly the book was still there, biding its time on a dusty shelf. Despite now being three times older than when I first perused it the book felt no more antiquated then it once had. And despite the passage of thirty-three years since those august days of youth I pleasantly realized that, on this day at least, I didn’t feel significantly different either. Other Images The incomparable Breidalblik Peak. Sun/shade line climbed in 1971 at V 5.9 A1. On the wrong side of the river for easy access. Bivi on the Caribou Glacier. Mount Tyr and Mount Walle in background. West Face of Mount Thor Signs of life below Mount Sif. Gear Notes: standard rack Approach Notes: Fly to Pangnirtung. Boat twenty miles up fjord. Hike 25 miles to Asgard. Supplies can be hauled in by sled in winter. Contact Peter Kilabuk.

Trip: Southern Twin Sisters Traverse - Kloke Peak (register placed), Twin Crest, Saddle Slab, Shirley, Trisolace, Barbara, Nancy, Last Sister Trip Date: 08/03/2024 Trip Report: Ever since our climbing mentor Dallas Kloke died on the Pleiades in 2010, @Trent, @sepultura, @Kit, @John_Roper and others in the local climbing community have been thinking of ways to honor a man who had given much during his 50 years of pioneering ascents in the Cascades and beyond. These dreams became a reality in 2022 with the naming of Kloke Peak (formerly Hayden) in the Twin Sisters Range. The Twin Sisters were near and dear to Dallas's heart and he completed many first ascents in this area over the years (including his FA of "Hayden" in 1972 with Dave Dixon) . The peaks are also visible from his house in Anacortes, adding a bittersweet element to the commemoration. Like all worthwhile climbs, the naming process was difficult, involved and several times seemed to almost come to a complete stop. Imagine my surprise then when I got a call from the Everett Herald on an October morning, deep in the mountains, letting me know that the WA State Board of Geographic Names had approved our proposal. Or, months later when a friend texted me a photo of the Gaia map (below) with "Kloke Peak" prominently displayed on the summit, meaning that the US Board of Geographic Names in Washington DC had also approved our proposal. Surreal. We just needed to get a register up there to really make it official! Fast forward to this summer.... when @Trent and I managed to find three days to get away to the range and place the register. We toyed with the idea of a full traverse of the range (Dallas style!) but the time and effort for that was a bit more than we were willing to undertake in the heat and humidity. So we settled to starting from Green Creek (thanks @dberdinka!), climbing from the cars up through the Cinderella/Little Sister col. We dropped a bit on the backside and cached our gear, heading over to Kloke Peak in the early evening to place the register and marvel at the rugged appropriateness of Dallas's namesake. KLOKE PEAK!: (below) Steve had done an admirable job of prepping the register, complete with laminated photo, newpaper article, Rite in the Rain logbook, and Pelican case. All secured with cord and pitons. Please leave it up there! When the book gets full, bring it down and let me know. I'll be the keeper of it and hike up a new book as needed. After savoring the view for a time, Steve and I headed down to camp at an unnamed lake south of Cinderella. It felt as if we were the first people to camp there, almost no sign of anyone, except for a random rock hammer we stumbled across the next morning as we left camp! Soon after finding the hammer, we began the quest to bag the rest of the peaks south of Cinderella. We knew it would would be a big day, but the heat and humidity made it even more taxing than we estimated. It was a 14 hour+ whirlwind day for us to climb Twin Crest, Saddle Slab, Shirley, Trisolace, Barbara, Nancy, and Last Sister. There was a lot of 3rd and 4th class along the way, some loose rock, a lot of solid rock, and a bit of head scratching so as to not carry all our gear up and over all the peaks. Sometimes this meant linking improbable ledges on the west side of the peaks. Sometimes it meant backtracking after scrambling a peak by the "easiest" path. We had left the rope behind in a effort to save weight, but I would have been happy for it on the "easy" route up Trisolace (photos of it way below). This was probably very exposed 4th or low fifth terrain, but we couldn't see an easier way, even on the way down. Careful there! Also careful on the summit ridge of Trisolace. I dislodged a large rock right at the summit and it nearly took me with it. As it was, it pinned my leg and @Trent had to come over quickly, and carefully roll it off and down the mountain. Whew! I sat for a time getting my heart rate and breathing down, cursing myself for letting my guard down, even for a moment. It was not lost on me that this was the same type of accident that took the life of Dallas. Steve on Trisolace. I eventually got up the gumption to follow him: Me, a few minutes after my mishap with the large rock: And somewhere along the traverse: The day wore on and we got further and further south and farther from Kloke Peak: As the sun dipped towards the west at last we were on the Last Sister, looking down at the Step Sister. Steve had already climbed it, but I hadn't. Camp looked so close at Heart Lake (it wasn't, as we would soon find out). There was a brief period, as we neared the col between the two peaks, that I considered heading up and descending to camp in the dark. But then I slipped, fell, and went into full leg cramps on both legs! My day was done, I was totally spent. And so we went down surprisingly far to the surprisingly rugged Heart Lake, barely finding about the only decent campsite on the west side of the lake as the light failed. Step Sister as we hike down to Heart Lake: Our camp at Heart Lake the next morning: The next day was going to be a long one (14+ miles) and hot, so we didn't have much time to rest after the marathon peak bagging tear the day before. As the sun came up we were soon moving down through the brush below Heart Lake to an old logging spur that took us down and across the South Fork Nooksack. Here, we grabbed the PNT and followed the elk up valley, surprising a trail crew along the way that hadn't seen many people in awhile. Sort of as we expected, it got really hot as we hit the Elbow Lake trail up and over the ridge back to our car. But we had beer stashed in the river and chips in the car. It could have been worse! I would really like to hear of others' stories of climbing Kloke Peak. Even if you don't post up a TR, feel free to post your experiences in comments below! Gear Notes: Ice axe, helmet, leather gloves. Many will want a rope on Trisolace. Footwear and clothing you don't care about. Approach Notes: In Green Creek (thanks Darin!), out Heart Lake and PNT to Elbow Lake and back to Middle Fork Nooksack.

This is just flat out wrong and I want to point this out since @AlexC192 is listening, responding, and trying to learn from their intense climb. I don't take this lightly. I feel very strongly that this is bad advice. Especially in light of the raps these guys are making, off single pieces, in the dark, completely knackered. A simple map/aerial review of the Yak Peak area would have identified a probable walk-off a short distance away (and everyone in this day and age really should be looking at and carrying these information sources in their pockets). Getting to the top is only halfway, and figuring out your descent plan is just as important as figuring out your route up, maybe more so, since you are going to be tired and it will be late in the day. Do your research. Are there times when rapping the way you came is the best alternative? Sure. Are there times when it is a terrible idea? Absolutely. This was one of them. I am glad that @AlexC192 is open and honest with how far strung-out they were- we owe it to him to give good advice, tailored to his situation, and not some general platitudes.

Speaking out of sincere concern and well wishes: I am seriously worried about you and your friend living for very long. You are in your first year of climbing and mention multiple epics and serious injuries. On this climb, you used a bunch of single point rappel anchors. There's other things you wrote that give me concern too, but I'll leave it at that for now. You seem to be making decisions like you are running out of time to climb... which you might be, if you don't start making more conservative decisions. If you slow your roll a bit, dial in the fundamentals, and make more conservative choices, you'll have a long climbing career and live to tell the tale. It would be a shame for a stoked climber like you to have (another) serious injury that takes you out of the game, or worse.