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Trip: Mount Goode - Northeast Buttress Trip Date: 07/11/2021 Trip Report: David and I are highly skilled at turning classic, moderate alpine routes into masochistic adventures. You'd think we'd learn, particularly since we have over a century of outdoor experiences between us, but maybe the truth is that we like to suffer. Like many alpine routes, conditions on the NE Buttress of Goode are everything. Too early and the creek crossings are treacherous. Too late and the moat at the top of the glacier can be hard to cross safely. There's a third factor we didn't realize was important: water sources high on the route. That turned out to be the most memorable part of our trip, as you'll see. My biggest worry was the crossing of the N Fork of Bridge Creek. A week before our trip, during our record-breaking heat wave, a friend and his girlfriend had found the creek impassable and bushwhacked a mile upstream to find a safe way across, adding two miles of cross country travel to their trip. A day later, another party turned around entirely in the face of a raging torrent. But temps had dropped. Was the crossing better? I remembered there's a flow gauge on the StehekinIn River, downstream of the North Fork. The data were encouraging: the river was at 6500 CFS when multiple parties found the N Fork crossing impassable, and it had dropped to 2500 CFS at the time we were going. We were a go! The first ten miles on the Pacific Crest Trail went smoothly. It was fun to chat with PCT thru hikers just starting South on their journey. Just before the North Fork junction, we ran into four friendly climbers who'd just come off of Goode. They allayed my concerns about the crossing and gave us a key piece of beta for the descent. They gestured at my splinted thumb, which I'd jammed in the gym a couple of weeks earlier: "Can you hand jam with that?" "Should be OK", I said. Starting off the trip with an injury wasn't ideal, but I didn't think it would affect us much. Grizzly Creek was easily crossed on a log, and then the trail got a bit brushy. It was a warm day, but nothing too bad. When we emerged from the brush at the traditional crossing point, I was relieved to see that it looked pretty mellow. The whole route - 6000 feet from river to summit.- stretched up in front of us. Skies were clear, most of the seasonal snow had melted, and it was getting hot just in time for our steep ascent to camp. The river was just over knee deep. So far so good, but a hidden dragon was about to rear its head. David had spent the previous day on the Snoqualmie River with friends. He'd gotten quite dehydrated and hadn't really recovered. The afternoon heat was taking its toll on him, and his energy was waning just as we were about to start up 2500 feet of fairly steep terrain to our intended camp. Usually, David carries more shared gear as he's faster than me. Not today. He handed me the rope and we started up. There were a few sections of steep scrambling where a fall would be bad. My tolerance for high consequence terrain has waned in recent years, but this was still just third class. Lots of lovely waterfalls. Then there were two sections of holdless, licheny fourth class scrambling where a fall would be fatal. Being tired and having a heavy (for me) pack didn't help my confidence. David kindly trailed the rope on the second section and gave me a hip belay. Then the "Magical alder tunnel" began. The tent caterpillars had eaten almost every leaf in a long section, so there was no canopy to protect us from the afternoon sun. Eventually, we emerged onto a small ridge next to a snowy creek. It looks flat, but it's definitely not. The skies were mostly blue except for a funny looking cloud to the north...more on that later. We would head up to the sun/shade line and veer up and left to the 5600 bivy. In the hall of giants. I like to imagine Fred coming up this way on the first ascent in 1966, before North Cascades became a National Park in 1968, before the North Cascades Highway was completed in 1972, and before the Pacific Crest Trail was completed in 1993. Storm King David is a master of micro naps. If he gets 15 minutes ahead on the trail I'll find him fast asleep. I kept going, with the summit of Goode looming over us. We reached the bivy, ate, admired the sunset, and settled down for the night. No rodent visitors. A bright meteor flashed across my dreams. We were lucky. At dawn, it smelled like smoke. That funny cloud was smoke from a fire that would close Highway 20 during our trip. Would our egress be cut off? Who knew? For now, there was only one way to go: up. Smoky sunrise with a few mosquitoes photo bombing above my head. Paintbrush We moved right below a steeper section of glacier. The seasonal snow was mostly gone, and the glacier crossing was trivial. This three inch iridescent beetle was out for a walk, probably looking for tasty critters to eat. Approaching the toe of the buttress. l The moat, which can be treacherous late season, was very straightforward, thank goodness. Everything was going great... And then we had a kerfuffle trying to get over to the crest of the buttress. We knew the goal was to angle up and right to the crest, but we were turned back by several steep dead ends with absolutely atrocious rock. We backed off two lines before finally finding one that felt OK. No one else ever mentioned this section as a significant obstacle in the reports we'd read, so there was no beta. Oh well. Just keep trying. At the final lip, I was mantling over onto the crest, both hands pointed down, feet in the air, when I couldn't move. Something was holding me back. My last gear was 15 feet behind me. A fall would be ugly. Apparently a tricam on the rack dangling from my shoulder had lodged in a crack at the height of my knees. It cammed perfectly and set itself to prevent upward movement. Grrrr. I tried fiddling with it, blindly, with one hand while balancing on the other. No bueno. I had to reverse the mantle, find a stance, use the nut tool to clean it, and complete the mantle to gain the crest. F$%^ing hell! I was beginning to think the mountain was sending us a signal. We had finally gained the crest of the buttress after three hours of poking around on the choss in the sun. That certainly wasn't part of our plan. David and I both are very rational when it comes to sunk costs, and we had both internally come to the same assessment of our situation: Yes, it's a bummer that it's noon instead of 9AM, but we're here, we have plenty of water and gear, retreat would be very unpleasant, and we might as well just climb. So we put three hours of frustration behind us and started climbing. The route flowed pretty smoothly. We simul-climbed most of it, only stopping to belay three fantastic pitches that I got to lead. One was this nice arete feature. Shortly before the large bivy ledge, I looked down and saw a piton that Fred may have placed on the first ascent in 1966. We reached the bivy ledges in the late afternoon and decided it was best to stop as we didn't want to climb by headlamp, and we weren't sure if there was snow we could melt near the summit. As it turned out, there was only one small patch of snow left. It was about six feet long and a foot thick. We would melt most of it, but it wasn't as pure or tasty as we imagined. Step 1: bring snow over to our melting pot. Hey what are those black specks? Probably just lichen or dirt.... There sure are a lot of those black specks. We poured the water into my nalgene and David took a long drink. Hey, those black things look like pine needles - but there are no trees up here. They also kind of look like tiny worms. David looked down into the nalgene and the black bits swam away from him toward the bottom. AAAGGHHHH!!!! They're alive! And there sure were a lot of them. It's one thing to drink a pine needle or a piece of dirt. It's quite another to gulp down dozens of tiny, writhing worms eager to burrow into your brain. Actually, we reasoned that if they lived in snow they'd probably die quickly in our guts, but I didn't really want to test out that theory. David was patient zero. I've seen our local glacier worms. These were shorter. Maybe a larval stage? Or a different organism? My glasses and camera were not powerful enough to reallly see them, and I wasn't sure I wanted a clear picture of these critters anyway given that we'd be drinking this water in any case. I imagine that as the snow patch got smaller they packed tighter and tighter into the last remaining section. They seemed to sink. We tried decanting them and then wiping off the sides of the pot with a clean corner of my sock. Not very effective. So we filtered the melt water through a clean shirt as best we could. The host of worms that piled up was impressive. The filtrate was mostly clear, but it tasted like shrimp soup. I added Nuun and protein powder, but it still tasted absolutely vile. I almost gagged, and I'm not squeamish. This would be our only water until almost noon the following day. Drink up! We could only laugh. I laid out the rope for a nice nighttime nylon nest. Added my pad Testing. Testing. And ready! I really hoped we wouldn't spend the night fighting off a packrat (aka bushy-tailed woodrat). They are notorious for stealing belay devices, cups, lighters, and anything that might look nice in their midden, which is typically a huge pile of petrified poop and pee build up over decades under a large rock. I saw what looked like the main midden entrance and stacked some blocks in front of it in hopes of distracting the beast. We never saw hide nor hair of the vermin. The smoky sunrise was stunning. And some spectacular flowers caught the light just right. And then it was time to head for the summit. The last section was steeper than we expected but still quite moderate. Here is David coming up the last section to the summit, with our river crossing visible 6000 feet below. The views were great, except for the pesky smoke. We hoped we were heading away from it rather than toward it, but it was hard to tell. We'd heard there might be a snow patch in a notch just North of the summit. We found the notch, but it was bone dry. Good thing we stoped at the bivy ledge. It would have been a very thirsty night up on the summit. Wormy water is better than no water. We rapped down off the summit and belayed a short section of exposed scrambling on the way to Black Tooth notch. And then we could see our destination far below: Park Creek. Only a vertical mile to go. And now the beta the four climbers gave us came in handy: on the second rappel, go straight down a full 30 meters. If you angle skier's left, as the terrain seems to suggest, you then have to pendulum along steep terrain to get to the right spot. After that it was several hundred feet of choss gully scrambling to a small trail veering out of the gully to the left. The South Face loomed above us. We finally reached snow around 7500 feet. A short bit of boot skiing ensued. Then we found water that was far, far better than that nasty shrimp soup we'd been drinking. I found some mysterious tracks. Five distinct toes with claws - so not a cat. Probably too small for wolverine. Probably too big for pine marten. ermine, or mink. Maybe a fisher? I don't know. You tell me. Here's the North Cascades mammals list: https://irma.nps.gov/NPSpecies/Reports/SpeciesList/Species Checklist/NOCA/1/false l Another alpine micronap with the Ptarmigan traverse on the horizon. Looking back toward the summit. Sporadic flower snapshots help fend off the double vision I sometimes get from relentless downhill pounding. The heather was stunning. But we were about to enter the dreaded burn zone. We made our way straight down the ridge but never saw a climber's trail. It got more and more unpleasant as we got lower. David's dehydration was catching up with him. By the time we reached a small creek a half mile above Park Creek, David was stumbling nearly every other step. The burn zone and eroding creekbed was the worst terrain he could remember, with rocks moving under him with almost every step. My experience wasn't quite that bad, and I know we've done worse together, so we decided his dehydration was turning into heat stroke, a potentially serious issue. The trail seemed to move further away as we drew closer, a cruel jest. Finally, we reached the Park Creek trail. David was spent. We poured a liter and a half of cold water in him, and he took a nap in the shade. That helped. I carried as many heavy things as possible on the last section down toward Stehekin. The Park Creek trail had some blow downs that were not fun. Several times I took off my heavy pack and dragged it on the ground while I crawled under a log. Once clear, I'd hoist it onto my back and start walking, only to see the next ball buster log just down the trail. I wasn't dehydrated or suffering from heat stroke, but I was pretty spent, and my lower left leg had some pain with each step. It was starting to swell. My pants didn't survive the trip. We crashed at the Park Creek campground near the Stehekin River and wrapped my rapidly swelling calf in a compression bandage. I slept with it elevated up on my pack, hardly notcing the few mosquitoes flying around. The long but easy march back to the car began at 6AM. Here we are tightening the bandage on my leg for the final few miles. Side note: on the first trip David and I did together, Slesse, we had some heinous bushwhacking, and I came away with a swollen lower leg. It didn't go down after a week, so my wife, who is a physician, convinced me to have it scanned to see if it was deep vein thrombosis (DVT), which can spin off clots that can bump up to your heart and kill you. It wasn't DVT, but ultrasound showed a three inch laceration inside my leg that was bleeding internally. It would take a month to heal. I wasn't sure what was up with my leg this time, but I could walk just fine. I made sure to get ahead of the swelling by compressing it during our hike. As usual, good conversation made the miles move faster. Flowers, butterflies, and views don't hurt either. Back at the junction between PCT and North Fork. The North Cascades in their summer glory. Seeds ready to ride on the wind. Distant peaks. The final stretch of trail. And the end of our adventure. Highway 20 was closed just East of us, but we could drive West. Beers were cooled. And we swam in the lake. Another moderate masochistic march in the books. As sometimes happens on our trips, the hard parts were easy and the easy parts were hard. My thumb and leg have healed, but I'm still traumatized by the shrimp soup we had to drink. I'll never again hear "pure as the driven snow" without thinking of those mysterious worms. Gag. Gear Notes: 60m rope, rack Approach Notes: Hwy 20 via Pacific Crest Trail

Trip: Khan Tengri, Kazakhstan - West Ridge Trip Date: 08/01/2021 Trip Report: Khan Tengri (22,993ft) via West Ridge (Russian grade 5a) Khan Tengri viewed from South Inylchek basecamp Highest mountain in Kazakhstan Aug 1, 2021 Eric Gilbertson and Andreas Ritzau July 25 drive Bishkek to karkara July 26 helicopter to south inylchek, climb to 5300m, unplanned open bivy July 27 summit attempt to 6500m, bail in storm, return to BC July 28 rest July 29 rest July 30 rest July 31 leave BC in evening, break trail to 5300m, camp at c2 Aug 1 summit, return to c2 Aug 2 descend to BC in morning The route July 25 We were in Kyrgyzstan climbing 7000m peaks and had just finished Lenin Peak on July 20. We had spent three weeks on Lenin so were very well acclimated for other high peaks. After a van ride to Osh and a flight to Bishkek we took two rest days in the low elevation, which allowed our bodies to recover and get even better acclimated. It was hot, over 100f each day, but we knew we would soon be back in cold subzero temperatures. I tried to eat as much as possible at every meal to fatten back up before heading back into the mountains. On the morning of July 25 we started our journey towards our next peaks. We took a van to the ak sai office and paid Helicoptering to basecamp the remainder of our balance for full packages at south inylchek. This would include helicopter rides in and out, tents every night, meals, permits, and use of fixed ropes. Unfortunately payment was not easy. Cash is the preferred method, though this requires carrying several thousand usd per person which seems risky. Ak sai isn’t set up to take credit cards. Bank transfers work but it happened to be 2am eastern time and our banks were not allowing transfers at that hour. Basecamp view – Khan Tengri on left, Pobeda on right Eventually we figured out the payment, then loaded up the van along with a Ukrainian team and started the drive to karkara. Tricky route out of camp We stopped at a grocery store for an hour to allow the Ukrainians to buy food (we’d already stocked up the previous day) then continued driving east. The drive took about 7 hours, passing through dry desert, past the scenic isykul lake, then back into the mountains near the Kazakhstan border. We showed our passports and border permits to a guard station then made it to karkara by sunset. Karkara is a small outpost with a few buildings and lots of tents. It serves as the helicopter staging area for south and north inylchek basecamps. We weighed all our luggage and ourselves for the helicopter, then ate a big dinner and went to sleep in the tents. Starting up the south Inylchek Glacier July 26 It was very windy that night and difficult to sleep with the tents banging around. Luckily I had earplugs but those without them didn’t get much sleep. We at breakfast at the main building then loaded up the helicopter around 7am. We were sharing the ride with a dozen other climbers, going to either north or south inylchek. The helicopter was the biggest I’d ever seen. I think it was an old Soviet military helicopter. It had huge doors in the back and could hold lots of gear. We took off in heavy wind and headed east. The trees soon got replaced by grass and rocks and in 40 minutes we reached the glaciers. We first stopped at north inylchek to drop off some climbers, then we went down the inylchek glacier to pick up some climbers that had been trying to hike in but given up and called the helicopter. They had an interesting plastic sled with bicycle wheels to tow gear but I guess it was still difficult . Finally around 10am we landed at south inylchek and unloaded. Hiking into the sunset The camp is set on the moraine midway between Khan tengri and pobeda. It consists of about 20 sturdy yellow tents, a kitchen tent, two dinner tents, and a sauna. With full packages we got assigned yellow tents, while climbers with econom packages pitched their own tents a ways away. We had decided given the amount of time we planned to spend there for both khan tengri and pobeda the full packages made most economic sense. Starting up towards Chapayev Chris Tomer had been giving us weather forecasts every day over the inreach and it turned out a weather window was supposed to last through Tuesday, followed by a week of bad weather. If we could summit Tuesday we could just barely beat the weather. That would require going straight for the summit without sleeping. It sounded reasonable to me since we were already acclimated and had just rested several days at low elevation in bishkek. We didn’t want to top out before sunrise, though, so decided on a mid afternoon start. We took a nap for a few hours, ate 2pm lunch from ak sai, then were packed up and moving by 330pm. The route was a bit complicated navigating ice cliffs in the moraine near camp but after an hour we reached the edge of the glacier. Andrew was feeling sick and decided to turn around there. He had already climbed khan tengri a few years earlier anyways. Looking across the valley to Pobeda Matt, Andreas and I continued on in crampons over the icy glacier. We generally followed flags along the route and eventually reached camp 1 at 4200m around 7pm. There were a bunch of climbers there and we took a break to put on more layers. We then roped up and continued up in the waning light. The route wrapped around and ascended the glacier up to the col between Khan tengri and chapayev peak. This section of route is best passed at night to avoid snow and rockfall from chapayev. Our timing was good, hitting the section just after sunset when the snow was icy. Matt led the way following a good boot track. We wove around many crevasses and were treated to great views of sunset on pobeda and topographers peak across the valley. We continued climbing in the dark and caught up to two Iranians ascending unroped. That seemed very dangerous given all the crevasses. Unplanned open bivy at C2 By midnight we reached camp 2 and were making excellent time to summit at sunrise. I was still feeling strong but the rest of the team said they needed sleep. I think all my all-nighter weekend trips in the cascades have somehow built up my tolerance for sleep deprivation for pushes like this. Unfortunately this delay put us in jeopardy of missing the weather window if storms came early. I really wanted to continue but decided to stick together and maybe we could all continue up after sunrise if everyone could get a few hours of sleep. Sleep would be difficult, though, since we hadn’t planned on sleeping and thus hadn’t brought sleeping bags or tents. I didn’t really need to sleep so gave out my extra warm clothes and pack for others to sleep on and set about melting snow to give everyone two boiling water bottles each to keep warm. Climbing past camp 3 For the remainder of the night I mostly did jumping jacks and dug a snow platform with my ice ax to stay warm while the others slept (or tried to sleep). By 5am the sun started rising and I asked that we start up. Unfortunately I was the only one wanting to go for the summit by then. I think sleep had been elusive. Two Dutch climbers happened to descend from camp 3 then and offered their empty tent if we wanted shelter, since they were continuing down. Matt and Andreas took them up on their offer while I decided to continue up solo and go for the summit. I made quick time up the packed trail to camp 3, which consisted of a half dozen tents under an overhang just below the chapayev- Khan tengri saddle. The summit pyramid From there I climbed a fixed rope up steep snow to the saddle. I turned right and followed a climbers path up to the west ridge of Khan tengri. I was in radio contact with matt and he said he hiked up halfway to camp 3 but then started getting affected by the altitude and decided to turn around. He and Andreas would wait at camp 2 until I returned. Around 6000m the ridge got steep enough that I ditched my poles and took out my ice ax. Soon I reached fixed ropes on steeper rock sections so I packed up my ice ax and got out my jumar. I was nervous to fully trust ropes I hadn’t inspected so I generally climbed the rock without weighting the rope. I would just push the jumar up as a backup. Nasty conditions on the upper mountain In general most of the ropes were in decent shape, though some were cut to the core and sketchy. I passed a few tents on a ledge at 6400m that was probably camp 4, then saw climbers rappelling down. I asked if they summitted but they just said no, that it was too windy. When I’d started up the ridge the summit had been clear and wind calm. But now it looked like the jet stream had hit it. A river of clouds was pummeling the summit and the wind had picked up considerably. The climber I’d talked to dove in his tent and I could see 3 more coming down. But the forecast was for decreasing winds over the day, so I optimistically continued up. I climbed up to about 6500m but the storm only worsened. I estimated the wind was gusting to 40 or 50mph and the top 300m of the peak was in complete whiteout. My highpoint at 6500m before retreating It appeared the storm predicted to start Wednesday had arrived a day early. I could probably navigate by following the fixed lines, but it seemed too dangerous with the heavy wind and whiteout. I radioed matt and said I was bailing. I guess that would at least give us a chance to all summit together in the next weather window. (I later learned nobody summitted that day and indeed the weather worsened). I descended using a combination of rappels and down climbing holding the fixed lines. By 1030am I was back at camp 2. A bunch of climbers were heading up then, I think planning to summit on Wednesday. Mountain forecast.com had predicted clear weather Wednesday morning but I told them it appeared the bad weather was arriving early. I later learned nobody summitted Wednesday since, indeed, the storm had come in early. Retreating back to BC We packed up and headed down by 11am. In hindsight this was a bad time to descend since chapayev was in the sun and all the snow bridges were soft. But we made it through quickly and were back to basecamp by 330pm, 24 hours after we’d left. Unfortunately the heat had made my feet sweaty and hiking in my Olympus mons across the moraine had given me bad blisters. Those would take several days to heal, but for better or worse the next few days were supposed to be bad weather anyways. July 27 Matt and Andrew were both not being treated well by the altitude and they decided it was best to helicopter back out since more summits were not in the cards. By mid morning the helicopter came and they packed up and headed out. Andreas and I would be the only team members left. We spent the day eating meals from ak sai and reading. Hiking back to BC July 28-30 We spent the next three days resting also. I tried to eat as much as possible and made good progress on my Tom Clancy book on my kindle. There were no summits by any climbers any of those days and we met a lot of climbers at base camp from Russia, Iran, Switzerland, Romania, and Britain. July 30 it snowed and rained all day, and I think everyone was in base camp. That was the most crowded I’d ever seen the dinner tent. The skies cleared that evening and chris said it was the start of a 2 day weather window. July 31 We wanted to give the new snow a full 24 hours for any avalanches to run their course, so we waited til after lunch. It had been sunny all morning which we hoped would cause any fresh snow on chapayev to slide. Waiting for good weather in BC By 230pm we were packed and heading back up for another attempt on khan tengri. This time there would be no attempt at all-nighters. We planned to bring overnight gear for two nights at camp 2. We made fast progress to camp 1, by now quite familiar with the route. Many other climbers were camped there and I think they were planning to summit Monday. But Sunday had the best weather forecast and we planned to summit then. We took a break to put on layers, then continued up the glacier. With all the fresh snow the old tracks were covered and we were on our own breaking trail. Occasionally we found an old flag and evidence of the old track but in general we were on our own for navigation. As we got higher we noticed fresh slides from chapayev and we were happy to have waited til nightfall. Hiking back up under Chapayev It looked windy on chapayev with lots of snow blowing off the summit and we hoped chris was correct that the wind would die at midnight. We took turns breaking trail and navigation got difficult as it got darker. By 1030pm we finally reached camp 2. There were 5 tents set up but only one occupied, by a solo russian climber. I found an open platform and set up the tent while Andreas melted snow. We ate freeze dried dinners and were asleep by midnight. Aug 1 We were up at 330am and moving by 430am. It was a tough 2 hours of trail breaking to camp 3 and surprisingly there was only one tent there, unoccupied. I think everyone had descended to avoid the Friday storm. Heading up from C2 at sunrise We ditched glacier gear there then jugged up the rope to the saddle. By then it was light out with minimal wind. There weren’t any fresh tracks from the north, but there were two tents at the saddle with fresh tracks leading up. Way above us I could make out three climbers, and they were the only others on the mountain. We eventually got high enough that I decided to ditch my whippet and switch to an ice ax. I looked back then and noticed Andreas was missing a crampon! He couldn’t summit like that so he turned around to look for it. Luckily he found it above camp 3 and put it on more tightly. That error unfortunately cost us about an hour. I then led the way up the fixed ropes, which were as sketchy as before. The route was fresh in my mind and I soon got to my old 6500m highpoint. In general I would try to stay far enough ahead so we were never both on the same rope, and it worked pretty well. Climbing up the fixed lines Above 6500m the steepness decreased a bit and eventually the route traversed right. After traversing we reached the steepest part of the route. There was a full 60m ropelength up 5.6 rock climbing, then another 60m rope up a steep snow slope. At the top of the slope I caught up to a Russian climber moving slowly. I asked to pass at the anchor but he wanted to stay ahead. I waited a long time for him to jug up steep rock to the next anchor, then I quickly caught up. He nicely let me pass then, and I climbed a short snow slope, then traversed around and up a rock band. I then reached the final long snow slope towards the summit. There were fixed ropes here that didn’t really seem necessary since the angle was low. But I guess a slip would still not be recommended. Andreas coming up the fixed lines I used the ropes to pull myself up anyways. For a few sections the ropes were buried and I had to use my ice ax. Shortly before the summit I met one Russian climber on his way down and passed another on his way up. By 4pm I made the last steps to the famous cross on the summit. Just after me sasha, the russian climber, reached the top and we shook hands. We exchanged pictures and admired the view. The snow went a little bit higher above the cross, but that was a cornice overhanging the north face while the cross is located on the highest point not on the cornice. In general I say it is acceptable to reach the highest natural point excluding cornices, since they are extremely dangerous and not permanent parts of the mountain. On the summit I radioed down to Dima that we’d made the summit, and he cautioned us to be careful on the descent. I then went back down to get out of the wind. When Andreas made it up I followed him to the summit and we took some more pictures. The weather was perfect, just as chris had predicted. It was around 0F with minimal wind and almost no clouds. I think it’s hard to get better than that. We had great views down to south inylchek and north inylchek, with the glaciers flowing past each camp like rivers and eventually converging far below. I could see our ascent route and dozens of more climbers ascending. There were now many more tents at camp 2 and camp 3. I guessed they were going for the summit Monday. By 445pm we started our descent. On the lower angle sections we just held the fixed lines in our hands and walked down. A few places without ropes we downclimbed with ice axes. Rapping down In the steeper parts I rappelled with my figure 8. Unfortunately Andreas only brought an ATC, but the fixed ropes were thick and icy enough that they were difficult to feed through the ATC. This led to some delays and our downward progress was slow. Also, often the ropes had knots in them, and passing these was time consuming. On the steeper sections the ropes were very taught, and it was difficult to pull up enough slack to rappel on. All of this compounded to slow us down. I kept radioing to Dima every two hours and I think he was concerned about our slow speed. Finally by 10pm we reached the bottom of the fixed lines and hiked back to the saddle. Andreas couldn’t fit the final rope leading to camp 3 into his ATC so eventually just descended holding the rope hand over hand. We put glacier gear back on at camp 3 and hiked back to our tent by 1am. Looking back towards basecamp I spent the next hour melting snow for drinking water. We both were very dehydrated, only drinking 2 liters all day. By 2am I was ready to finally get in the tent, but I couldn’t get my right boot off! My Olympus mons have a fancy BOA binding system but after 30 minutes I just couldn’t get it to release. I really wished it had good old fashioned laces. I finally gave up and took out my knife and cut the binding loose. Hopefully la sportiva will be sympathetic and fix them someday. I figured I’d use a voile strap to tighten them in the future since the binding was busted. By 245am I was finally in my sleeping bag. But I couldn’t fall asleep all night. I kept coughing up phlegm. I think it was because I was too dehydrated all day. Descending at sunset Aug 2 Finally by 630am it was light out and I gave up trying to sleep. I woke Andreas up and we were soon packed up and moving down. Hiking back to basecamp Many climbers were ascending, and none of them were roped up! I can’t understand how they think it’s safe to cross so many crevasses and snow bridges unroped. Some crevasses on the route require long precarious jumps to get across! We made fast progress down, taking a brief break at camp 1 to talk to some friends. By 1pm we made it back to base camp, in time for afternoon lunch with ak sai. We told Dima we were back, and during lunch he gave us each a certificate for summiting. It turns out we were the 6th and 7th people to summit this year from the south. That’s kind of surprising given how many people were on the mountain. We soon got busy resting up for our next mountain, Pik Pobeda. Gear Notes: Standard glacier gear, jumar, Figure 8 ( to rap thick icy fixed lines) Approach Notes: Helicopter to South Inylchek basecamp

Trip: West Peak (7365') of the Anderson Massif - East Ridge Trip Date: 08/14/2021 Trip Report: West Peak (7365')– Dosewallips River Trail Approach – Aug 14-16, 2021 (Sat, Sun, Mon). I climbed West Peak (7365') of the Anderson Massif over the weekend. I started the climb from the Dosewallips River Trailhead outside Brinnon, WA. I planned for 3 days with a possible bonus summit of Mount Anderson if time and conditions permitted. I wanted to get the hell out of the smoke and breath some fresh air, mission accomplished. Saturday: I caught the 7:10am ferry at Edmonds over to Kingston. I started out from the trailhead at 9:30am. I brought a mountain bike for the first 6.5 miles to the ranger station and for the return trip. I made it to the ranger station at 10:45am. Anderson Pass was reached at 5:15pm. I headed up the Anderson Glacier Trail to camp at a small lake at the top of the trail arriving at 5:45pm. The trail along the way was beautiful with great camping options every hour or so. Mileage was 6.5 miles by bike , 11.5 miles to camp hiking. Sunday: I left camp at 6:15am heading for Flypaper Pass. I crossed over Flypaper Pass (6500’) at 8.50am. Flypaper Pass is almost entirely snow free right now. The route up to the pass is steep, loose rock the entire way. Crossing this pass with snow covering the steep loose rock would be the way to go, earlier in the season. If I wasn’t planning to climb Mount Anderson also, I would have climbed over to the basin below West Peak instead, much better looking terrain. Once at Flypaper Pass I decided to climb West Peak first. I headed down the Eel Glacier to the base of the SE Ridge of West Peak. I reached the North Notch at 11:15am (7000’). I headed up the East Ridge to the Summit arriving at 12:05pm. The route is Class 3 & 4 rock with some decent exposure. Loose rock sections throughout the ridge. I climbed Mount Constance a couple weeks ago, going the standard route, and this route up West Peak is more technically demanding. I was eyeballing the Mount Anderson route the whole way up and it was not looking good. The steep snow that leads to the summit ridge of Anderson is now melted out to the blue glacier ice almost the whole way up. I had aluminum crampons and a standard ice axe so I decided against an Anderson summit attempt with the current conditions. If I was to do Mount Anderson now, I would bring sharp steel crampons and two ice tools for that slope, possibly some protection against a slip; Maybe try a different route up all together, avoiding the glacier ice. I headed back to Flypaper pass from West Peak summit arriving at 2:45pm. Going down Flypaper Pass sucked way worse than going up. Very loose and steep the whole way down. 5:00pm I arrived back at the small lake camp, packed up and headed down for a lower camp. 7:15pm I arrived at Diamond Meadow camp for the evening. Monday: I left camp at 6:30am. I reached the ranger station at 9:15am. I headed down on the mountain bike reaching the Trailhead at 10:30am. This was a great trip in a beautiful area with lots of excellent camping options. Some Tips and Notes: 1. The trail to Anderson Pass is in excellent condition, easy travel & beautiful. The trail to Anderson Glacier is also nice but less traveled. 2. Water access for the whole trip was great with water as high up as 6700’ on summit day. 3. If planning to climb Mount Anderson via the standard route, be prepared for glacier ice climbing. 4. Flypaper Pass is snow free, steep, loose rock currently. I would recommend an alternate route. 5. The East Ridge of West Peak is exposed class 3-4 with sections of loose rock. 6. Bring a mountain or cyclocross bike for the first and last 6.5 miles, it will save you a lot of time. Travel Time for reference: Saturday: Car to Camp – 8.25 hours. Sunday: Camp to Summit to Camp#2 – 13 hours. Monday: Camp to Car – 4 hours Total Mileage: about 42 miles Total Elevation Gain: about 7100’ Gear used: Trekking Poles, Helmet, Ice Axe, Crampons. The trail in is really nice. Small lake camp at the top of the Anderson Glacier Trail. On the way to Flypaper Pass. Easy going until you reach the base of the pass. Rock at the base of Flypaper Pass, it is steeper than it looks. Loose class 3. Looking down the route traveled from Flypaper Pass. Looking across Eel Glacier from Flypaper Pass to the SE Ridge & East Ridge of West Peak. I went straight across to the snow finger at the base. Looking back across the Eel Glacier to Flypaper Pass from the SE Ridge of West Peak. Rock along the East Ridge of West Peak. Summit of West Peak from the false summit. Kind of spicy with a naughty runout. Summit view looking back at Anderson. Anderson route with lots of steep glacial ice. I'll stick with the expose rock ridge climb thanks. Looking back at the terrain traveled. I saw nobody summit day, I had the whole mountain to myself. Hard to believe with the amount of people at the trailhead. There are great camping spots all along the area surrounding the big lake. I haven't spent much time in the Olympics until this year, mostly because of all the red tape that is the usual for this area. With all the park service hiding from the Boogeyman Virus, you can experience the mountains the way they were meant to be, pure & free from bullshit. Gear Notes: Gear used: Trekking Poles, Helmet, Ice Axe, Crampons. If Climbing Anderson via the Eel Glacier Route bring sharp steel crampons and ice tools, you will be dealing with rock hard, steep glacial ice Approach Notes: Dosewallips River Trail Approach & Up the Anderson Glacier Trail.

The rock on the west ridge of Khan Tengri was some kind of crappy shale down low. Probably wouldn't hold a cam too well. But the upper 1000ft or so were better quality and solid. Surprisingly I hear the south ridge is higher quality, almost like marble. That's a pretty serious route that hasn't seen too many ascents. I took the west ridge.