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Trip: Olympic National Park - Mt. Olympus Traverse: East Peak, Middle Peak, West Peak Trip Date: 08/01/2021 Trip Report: Mt. Olympus Traverse: East Peak, Middle Peak, West Peak Climbers: Adam “Mo” Moline - Sacramento, CA Emilio Taiveaho - Saxapahaw, NC Gregorio “Brosi” Scott – Minneapolis, MN Summary: Day 1 – Hike to Lewis Meadows Day 2 – Hike to Glacier Pass Day 3 – Summit Push: East, Middle, and West Peaks Day 4 – Restorative climbing/Choss worship at Glacier Pass Day 5 – Hike out Seeking sweet sweet choss, a return to the Olympic Peninsula was in order. In 2020, Adam and I (emilio) climbed the West Peak in a three-day push—an adventure that left us hungry to explore more remote areas of the park and spend some time on the dense and complicated glacier system skirting Mt. Olympus. As this trip marked Gregg’s first backcountry experience, we pursued a comfortable line full of loose rock and crevasses, giving him a delightful taste of the proverbial “freedom of the hills.” Day 1: Our pilgrimage to Sunh-a-do began at the airport, as Adam and Greg picked me up from Seattle on Monday morning. Running low on sleep, I was full of nervous anticipation having just completed a run up Gannet Peak a couple days prior, climbing the South-East Couloir in a twenty-two-hour push. Although my legs were tired, my spirits were at all time high and I was eager to rest my legs by walking alongside the mossy delights of the Hoh River. We made good walking and camped at Lewis Meadows, this being the only site with open campsites along the developed trail. We had a leisurely afternoon spent reading Deleuze and Guattari by the river and beginning to contemplate how to make ourselves bodies without organs. Day 2: After a full night of rest, we began our hike up to Glacier Pass. Soaking in the sights and feeling healed by the forest we had no trouble getting up to Glacier Meadows. Auspiciously, on our way up a smiling mustached old-time climber yelped: “The Ice is great! You won’t even need a rope!” Once at the Blue Glacier, the leisurely walking continued. Crevasses were easy to spot and the ice was solid, so there was no need for crampons. After a good day of walking, arriving at our camp felt like a true treat—we were welcomed with open arms by the mountain. The afternoon was spent staring at Hermes and the Hoh Glacier, basking like lizards under the Washington sun. Day 3: On our third day, we woke up early with our objectives in mind. Descending class 3 rock to the glacier, we put on our crampons and headed up the Hoh towards the East Peak. The Hoh Glacier was in lovely form and we heeded the old climber’s advice, seeing no need for ropes, and made good time negotiating crevasses. Once at the rock, climbing was straightforward, class 3 and 4 to the top. We all took slightly different routes to the top, but found no summit log there. We descended the way we approached, getting back on to the Hoh Glacier in order to approach Middle Peak. The route up Middle Peak was marked by solid snow and heavenly sights. Getting onto the rock was straightforward. The route up was chossy class 3, maybe 4, with a couple cerebral moves. Here, we found a true summit register with a handful of entries—mainly from groups traversing the Bailey Range, which will be an objective in the future. Looking over at the West Peak and getting hungry for more climbing, we decided it was a good idea to rap from the top in order to make good time, traversing onto the Blue Glacier. We were moving fast now, downclimbing class 4 choss after a 30 m rap, when I was frozen by the sound of falling rock and the sudden mushrooming of a cloud of pure dust. This was Gregg’s first time climbing in the Alpine and he had expressed some fear, so my mind immediately rushed to the worst: he had fallen and broken a limb… or worse. Rushing to see what happened, both Adam and I found Gregg suspended by his fingers and toes, having caught himself on a solid jug after a bloody, chossy, bruising rock slide. Seeing he was okay—just a little shook up—made me think of Jean Afanassieff’s legendary words “This is the fucking life! No?” Thanking our lucky stars and bowing to the greatness of Mount Olympus, who humbled us yet kept us going, we made quick time across the Blue Glacier and arrived at the West Peak, troubled only by our own internal agitations and “what if” scenarios. Needing a respite, Gregg waited for Adam and I at the base of the climb as we scampered up the back. It was easy, class 4 climbing with a couple class 5 moves for good taste. At the top, we came across some mountaineers who had spent the last hour watching us cross the glacier. After some good conversation about the beauty of the Picket Range and this summer’s adventures, Adam and I headed down to Gregg, whose nerves were calmed and mood once again elevated. We followed our tracks on the way back and found climbing Middle Peak from the west a welcome breeze. A single rap brought us back to the Hoh Glacier and with soulful bounding leaps, we navigated our way back to Glacier Pass. It’s true what Japhy Ryder says in The Dharma Bums, “You can’t fall off a mountain!” There are times when this adage is felt and its truth shines through—this is something that can only be experienced, description lacks what only the body relates. Food tasted particularly tasty back at camp, where we were greeted by water and the sight of a fleeting hummingbird, attracted to our prayer flags and the vibrant colors of our jackets. That night was filled with a spilling milky way, stars as choss populating my deep sleep. Day 4: The next day we awoke to make coffee and stretch, having carved out a day to rest and recover. Soaking in Glacier Pass without determinate plans we ate a meal of morels and other dried mushrooms, and decided to have a day full of turmeric, ginger, and meditative bouldering. Devotees of the lazy lizard school of hedonism, we worshipped the choss and spent a day on the rocks, singling out Hermes just across the glacier, and living on Big Rock Candy Mountain. That evening, a small black bear crested Glacier Pass not realizing we were there. Upon hearing and seeing us, the Bear raccoonned down the Blue Glacier, moving quickly and lightly back down the glacier. The night was filled with signs of inclement weather—it was clear we were going to be greeted by rain in the morning. Day 5: After another night of deep sleep, we woke up to morning rain and shifting clouds at our Glacier Pass Eden. We packed our gear and a steady glacier walk brought us back to the trail. Our boots guided us back to the trailhead, adorned by a couple water breaks. Near the end of our hike we came across a beautiful flush of Chicken of the Woods, and Adam gathered some for dinner. We are thankful, and will be back for you, Hermes. Gear Notes: Light rack, some cams and nuts. Approach Notes: Smooth Big Rock Candy Mountain Walkin'

Trip: Pik Pobeda, Kyrgyzstan - Abalakov Trip Date: 08/09/2021 Trip Report: Pik Pobeda (24,406ft) via Abalakov route (VI,5.6,WI2/3,60 deg snow) Pik Pobeda viewed from South Inylchek basecamp (note the big avalanche on the north face) Highest Mountain in Kyrgyzstan Aug 9, 2021 Eric Gilbertson and Andreas Ritzau Aug 6 – leave bc climb glacier in snowstorm to 5200m Aug 7 – climb left side of triangle over massive 50ft cornices, 5.6 mixed rock ice pitch and ice pitch to 5800m passing Russian team on their descent Aug 8 – climb more huge cornices, rock pitch, ice pitch, dig platform under serac at 6600m Aug 9 – tough steep trailbreaking in snow then ice climb to summit ridge and true east summit. Descend to 6600m camp in wind and whiteout Aug 10 – rap and downclimb to 6000m in extreme wind Aug 11 – rap, downclimb cornices, descend all way to BC by 10pm Aug 12 – helicopter out, ride to Bishkek Our route I originally posted a call for partners on cc for this trip, so figured I'd put up a report for it now that I'm back. Pik Pobeda is considered the northernmost 7000m peak in the world and the most difficult of the famous snow leopard peaks (the five 7000m peaks of the former soviet union). Pobeda has notoriously bad weather and all routes to the summit are technically difficult and dangerous. The peak lies on the Kyrgyzstan-China border near the Kazakhstan tri-border point and is affected by the weather of the Taklamakan desert to the south and glaciers to the north. The normal route on Pobeda requires climbing over technical terrain to 7000m on the west ridge and then following the ridge for a full 6km to the summit, then returning the same way. The technical sections up to the ridge are usually fixed each year so don’t pose problems. But the 7000m ridge is quite dangerous because it could take all day or multiple days to move along the ridge and back if snow conditions are bad. If the weather deteriorates, which is common, retreat is very difficult. Route overview (photo by Markus Gschwendt, summitpost, some camp locations different than ours) An alternative route, and the route of the first ascent, is the Abalakov route. This route follows a steep and more technical ridge up the north face directly to the col between the west and east summits and allows nearly direct access to the true east summit. This route has two main advantages. Most important is it does not require a long and dangerous ridge traverse because it is so direct. Thus, if the weather turns bad on the summit it is easy and quick to bail to a lower elevation. Second, it allows direct access to the true eastern summit, with no temptation to bail early on the false summit. Helicoptering to basecamp Andreas and I were in Kyrgyzstan climbing snow leopard peaks and our top priority for the summer was Pobeda. Pobeda itself is not a great peak to use for acclimation so we started the summer with a three-week climb of Lenin Peak, a relatively easy 7000er. Next we helicoptered to south Inylchek to climb Khan Tengri, another 7000m peak and the highest mountain in Kazakhstan. By climbing two 7000m peaks with low altitude Russian rests in between we hoped to be very well acclimated for an attempt on Pobeda. We arrived in south Inylchek base camp in late July and by August 2 had climbed Khan Tengri and made it back to base camp. By then the first few teams of the season had just started up Pobeda. Interestingly the season for Pobeda tends to be very short. Teams generally don’t start up til early August (having spent July acclimating on other peaks), but then by late August the season ends with the last scheduled helicopter flights out. Good views of Khan Tengri from the other side of camp We talked to lots of other climbers over a few days at the dinner tent and I came away with the impression that almost everyone there is some sort of elite athlete. There were Piolet D’or winners going for a new route on Topographers Peak, the president of the Moscow Alpine Club who’d already climbed Pobeda twice, K2 guides, the owner of Summitclimb guiding company, Swiss guys who’d skied Dhalguiri, and I’m sure everyone else had crazy mountaineering resumes too. We spent some time hanging out with an Iranian team planning to climb the normal route on Pobeda, and a Hungarian team working to fix lines up Dicky Pass. Over the next few days while resting we watched two teams on the Abalakov route through a telephoto lens and saw them get above 6000m on the ridge. All teams are required to check in with Dima every two hours on the radio for status updates. I could listen in on my own radio but unfortunately all other teams generally speak Russian so I couldn’t understand what was going on. But we talked to Dima and he said the teams on the Abalakov route reported stable snow and they planned to summit on Thursday Aug 5. The teams on the normal route were a bit lower still at 6400m. We planned to take the Abalakov route, given the safe snow conditions reported. Our meteorologist friend Chris Tomer was sending us daily weather forecasts and it looked like Monday morning would be clear with low wind. That could potentially be perfect timing if we left soon. Hiking up the Zvezdochka Glacier looking back towards basecamp Aug 6 Friday morning we were packed and moving by7:30am. Out of camp we followed a decent trail through the moraine marked by cairns and flags. Our packs were pretty heavy since we were carrying our big Olympus mons 8000m boots and hiking in our smaller hiking boots plus a week of food. After a few hours we reached the edge of the glacier ice and stopped for a break. We switched into our Olympus mons boots and glacier gear and our packs got a bit lighter. We hid our small hiking boots under a rock and were soon moving on the glacier. The route was icy and a bit tricky to follow. Unfortunately the fresh snow from a few days earlier had melted so it was hard to see tracks, and the occasional flags en route had all fallen over. In general we crossed to the west side of the Zvezdochka glacier, then followed it due south. We wove around quite a few crevasses and eventually climbed high enough to reach fresh snow and find some tracks to follow. We soon reached a flowing meltwater stream to top off our nalgenes, and then the intersection where our route diverged from the normal route. Looking towards the apron on the left From there we headed towards the northwest corner of the big apron at the bottom of the Abalakov ridge. I could actually barely make out the tracks from the Russians on that corner. That was kind of surprising since it had been a week since they’d gone up, but I guess it hadn’t really snowed much in the past week. I could also make out an old avy crown on the broad north face of the apron, but the route avoided the face and looked safe. We stuck to the icy melted out section of the Zvezdochka glacier for a while, then jumped a melt stream. From there we postholed a short ways then met up with the Russians tracks. The tracks were badly melted out and in the heat of the afternoon we still sunk through them but they at least provided a little support and helped us navigate. It looked like they must have triggered the top few inches of snow to slide off from there tracks but it was very stable by now. Climbing up to the pedestal in a snow storm We marched up steeply with Andreas breaking trail first then me taking over. As predicted by mid afternoon the clouds rolled in and it started snowing. Our progress was a bit slower than hoped for with the soft conditions but finally by 5pm we crested the flat plateau (the “pedestal”) at 5200m that is the traditional camp location. We found a flat spot that looked like it was the sight of the Russians camp and pitched our tent there. At 6pm I radioed Dima and asked if he knew where the Russians were. I was surprised we hadn’t seen them coming down. But he just said “problem” and wanted us to get off the radio so he could talk to other teams. (I would later learn the Iranian team on the normal route had lost a climber around this time and the Russian team had had an accident and Dima probably wanted to hear updates from them – see article with full details on Iranian climber accidents https://explorersweb.com/2021/08/12/pobeda-peak-fatalities-timeline/.) Camp 1 at 5200m the next morning, looking up at the triangle Aug 7 The next morning we started up at 8am under sunny skies. From 5200m there are two options – you can either go up the right or left edge of the giant triangle to gain the narrow Abalakov ridge in the middle. Markus on summitpost recommends the right side but this is steeper and looks more prone to slide. The Russian tracks went up the left (east) side, which looked narrower and more technical but probably safer from avalanches. We followed the Russians route, reasoning that they reached the summit so their route must work. As we wound onto the ridge the tracks soon disappeared, covered by the previous night’s snow, and trailbreaking became difficult. We also started to get a bit more intimidated by the route above us. The ridge was covered in massive cornices bigger than I’d ever seen before. Some were at least 50ft tall and must have taken years (decades?) to form. Climbing the left side of the triangle One section was so steep, though, no cornices covered it and it looked like a rock cliff we’d need to climb. This looked a lot tougher than the right side but we continued, reasoning it must go and be safe if six climbers just made it up a few days earlier. They would certainly have implicitly tested snow and cornice stability by their passage, so following their route was probably one of the safest ways up the mountain. We took turns breaking trail steeply up the cornices, trying to stay in the faint traces of the old track. It’s a tricky balance – we wanted to be far enough from the left edge to not risk breaking it off, but far enough from the right edge not to slide off the steep slope. We were generally able to find a safe balance and eventually climbed to the base of the rock cliff. Breaking trail up the cornices (photo by Andreas) There it looked like two tent platforms dug out on the ridge. Maybe the Russians had had even more challenging trail breaking conditions than we did if they had only made it there after camp 2. We stopped at the platforms to assess the cliff. It was about 30m high, nearly vertical rock, luckily with plenty of cracks for me to get gear in. There was a rotten ancient fixed rope in the middle that likely wouldn’t even hold body weight which I didn’t plan to touch. At the top of the cliff was a small broken cornice and what looked like a thin, unprotectable snow climb about 30m more back onto a deeper snow ridge. Climbing the rock pitch (photo by Andreas) It looked doable, probably around 5.6, and I was encouraged by the gear options, so I decided to give it a go, but it would be tough. I’d be climbing around 18,000ft in crampons and gloves in single digit temperatures, carrying an ice ax in one hand and a week of supplies on my back. And the exposure was about 3000ft. I decided to first lighten my load and give Andreas a few heavy items since he’d be on toprope for the climb. Then I pounded Andreas’s ice axe and picket into the snow to make an anchor and he put me on belay. I tiptoed out on a small snow finger then reached my left frontpoints out to balance on a narrow ledge. I quickly got in a small cam before looking down at the immense exposure under my legs. From there I delicately worked my way up, balancing frontpoints on thin ledges and hooking other ledges with my ice tool. I got three solid cams in before reaching the ridgecrest and the end of the rock. There I crossed to the other side and carefully made my way up the thinly snow-covered rock. Luckily there was a patch of ice I could get a screw into, but that was my last gear option. Near the top I made a tricky move over a rock bulge then finally reached lower angle deeper snow. I was at the end of the 60m rope by then so dug down to firm snow and made an anchor with my picket and ice ax. Approaching the mega cornice I belayed Andreas up and we were soon both on flatter ground. The terrain eased considerably above the rock step and Andreas took the lead breaking trail. The cornices soon ended and we spent the next few hours working our way up to 5700m. We eventually reached the top of the triangle where the east and west routes converge, and then the route got difficult again. A mega cornice blocked the route with a wide vertical ice cliff spanning the width of the ridge. The one weakness was a steep snow ramp led up to the left to meet the wall where the vertical section was only about 10ft tall. We kicked steps 2/3 of the way up the ramp, then I had Andreas pound his ice tools into a solid snow section for an anchor to belay me up higher. I kicked steps up to the wall but then realized the wall was actually dense snow, not ice. Camp 2 at 5900m This made things a bit more difficult. I couldn’t get ice screws in and tool and crampon placements would be less secure. I managed to get a solid picket placement halfway up the wall but it was so steep and my pack so big that I kept rotating off whenever I stepped up. Finally I just pulled out 15ft of rope, tied a bite in it, then took my pack off and clipped it to the bite. I then wriggled and kicked my way up the wall without wearing the pack. There was a ton of slack in the rope but that was the only way it would work. Once over the lip I dragged the pack up, then kicked steps a bit higher in the low angle deep snow. I then built an ice ax and picket anchor and started belaying Andreas up. I looked up then and saw the team of six russians coming down. This was great news for us since it meant a freshly broken trail above us. The first man built an anchor near mine and started belaying the others over. I asked him about the problem Dima mentioned and he just said one person had fallen but there was no problem. Everyone seemed to be doing fine so I guess there was no problem. We continued up and made camp at 5900m. Good views towards Khan Tengri the next morning Aug 8 We hoped we were past the technical crux of the route but knew there was still some rock and ice climbing above us. Our goal for the day was to skip one more camp and make it to the highest camp at 6600m to put us within striking distance of the summit for the monday window. Breaking trail up more cornices Unfortunately it had snowed and been very windy overnight, and the russians tracks had filled back in, so we had more tough trailbreaking on cornices to a rock step at 6200m The ridge soon narrowed and we were in a similar situation of traversing massive cornices. We stayed on the traces of the russians tracks, striking a balance not getting too close to the cornice edge but also keeping distance from the steep snow slopes to the right. We occasionally had to kick steps and use ice axes on steeper sections, but then the ridge broadened and flattened again as we reached a big rock step at 6200m. I decided to scramble to the edge of the rocks to meet the russians route halfway, then climb the snow slope. Trail breaking was tough, but I eventually reached the rocks. I scrambled a brief 4th class section to the snow above, then belayed Andreas up on an ice ax anchor and broke trail to the top. The ice step I knew there was no rock climbing above this point so clipped my rock rack to the anchor to retrieve on the descent. We broke trail a bit higher and soon reached the base of the serac ice climbing section. Unfortunately I’d only brought four ice screws and hoped it would be enough. I started kickng steps in the steep snow, then soon got to continuous ice. I got my first screw in there, then climbed up another 20ft for my second. The grade was WI 2/3 ice and it was very brittle since it was glacier ice. I made it up higher and the difficulty dropped as snow started mixing with the ice. I had to run it out a ways on steep snow before getting another screw in, then traversing hard left. By the time I ran out of rope I’d reached continuous snow and dug down to make a solid picket – ice ax anchor. Camp 3 at 6600m above the ice step I belayed Andreas up and the terrain looked much easier above us. Andreas broke trail up varied snice and powder terrain to around 6600m. It was apparent there was no level terrain anywhere, as Markus reported, so we stopped below a big serac to look for camp. I noticed the wind was generally out of the west, but that if we went to the side of the serac we could find some shelter. We ended up digging out a big platform in the leeward side of the serac and pitching our tent there. We went to bed early that evening in anticipation of a big summit push the next morning. Aug 9 Based on our trailbreaking speed the previous few days we estimated a pace of about 100m elevation gain per hour. The wind was supposed to be lowest (15-20mph) in the morning increasing by late afternoon (30-40mph) and the temperature at the summit starting at -13F rising to around 0F by early afternoon. We decided to leave at 4am to reach the summit around noon to have a compromise of navigating mostly in the light and not too cold summit temperatures and not too strong winds. We were up at 3am and soon moving under clear starry skies. I would end up leading the way most of the day on the ascent. I picked up a faint trace of the russians tracks going up the left side of the serac but it soon got into steep ice climbing terrain. So I backed down and found a lower angle route on the right side. The route still briefly required climbing with two tools but was short enough we didn’t bother pitching it out. Looking back towards Khan Tengri Above the ice the skies got brighter and we could see a very long but gradual snow slope above us. I broke trail slowly and meticulously, saving my energy in anticipation of many hours of that. I would sometimes sink to my shin and sometimes to my knee and it was quite tiring. There was no trace of the track from the russians. I eventually hooked right around a serac and kicked steps left to a weakness in the s-shaped rock band at 7000m. There we easily crossed over to the left side and took a break. It had been five hours of challenging trail breaking to then with me in the lead the whole time. Andreas took over as the slope steepened. We generally hugged the left side of the narrow rock band kicking steps steeply up the snow towards the summit ridge above. It was amazing getting a brief break but after 30 minutes I took over again. As we got higher the slope got steeper and I was comforted that the russians had tested its stability just a few days earlier. Crossing over the rock band At the steepest section we found traces of the russians tracks and followed those up. That steep section at 7200m was some of the most difficult trailbreaking I’ve ever done in my life. I was basically swimming uphill with no purchase on my feet. It didn’t help that I was totally worn out and there was hardly any oxygen in the air. When I finally crested a small ridge I found a small flag left by the russians and laid down to pant like a dog. It was surprisingly difficult to catch my breath but I eventually relaxed enough to get back up. From there we could see tracks all the way to the summit ridge and the snow looked firm enough to require minimal trailbreaking. We could even see a small flag planted at the ridge. It looked like we were almost there! Andreas took over the lead and we decided to ditch our second ice tools there to save weight. We continued up toward the ridge, but after an hour I noticed the route was just a thin layer of snow on top of ice, with decent exposure below. The terrain sketched me out and I didn’t feel comfortable proceeding without pitching it out and climbing with two tools. We regretted leaving our tools but we couldn’t proceed without them. We turned around to see if we could find a way around the ice patch but it appeared to span the whole face. The thought of bailing crossed my mind but there was still plenty of daylight left, so we decided to go get the tools and continue the route. We dropped back down, picked them up, and returned to the edge of the ice. We’d lost two hours from that error but hoped we could still beat the wind. I put a screw in and clipped Andreas in, then he belayed me as I led up. I got two more screws in as I did a rising traverse, then I reached the end of the ice and hit continuous snow and snice. I belayed Andreas up on a picket ax anchor, then he led an easy section to a boulder and body belayed me up. Hiking to the east/true summit Andreas then body belayed me up another rope length as I kicked steps up the steepening slope. Then I belayed him from an ice ax anchor as he crested the summit ridge at the flag. We soon both made the ridge at 4pm and luckily it wasn’t too windy. It was also still sunny and we were poised to tag the summit. We had topped out at the col between the east and west summits and luckily we had had done our homework to know which one to tag. The east summit is the true summit. Most climbers on the normal route stop at the west summit simply because that’s the first one they hit and it is significantly farther to get to the east summit. But the east summit is slightly higher and thus the true highest point in Kyrgyzstan, so we turned east. (We had read that famous mountaineer Denis Urubko made sure to go out his way to tag the true east summit after his Piolet D’or – winning climb of the dollar rod route on Pobeda in 2011.) Andreas led the way staying clear of the cornices on the north side of the ridge. Luckily the snow was firm and travel fast. We were walking directly on the Kyrgyzstan-china border and I noticed the slope looked much gentler on the china side. But I’m sure it got more difficult lower. The ridge eventually got very narrow and rocky, and we passed what looked like a jumbled up old tent on a ledge. By 4:45pm we crested the summit. It had been a tough morning and I immediately laid down. The skies were sunny, wind low, and views were amazing to china to the south and kygyzstan to the north. We could see basecamp way below on the south inylchek glacier. We quickly snapped a few pictures and videos. I had planned to send an inreach message and take out my sight level to measure the height difference between east and west summits, but it was just too cold to want to take my hands out of my mittens. We were also much later than hoped for and wanted to get down as soon as possible to beat the incoming wind and darkness. Heading back So after about 3 minutes we started down. We carefully followed our up tracks back to the place we’d gained the ridge. It was steep enough to warrant rappelling off the ridge but I didn’t really want to leave any gear. I already had plans to leave our pickets lower down for other rappel anchors. So I ended up belaying Andreas as he downclimbed, then he built an anchor and belayed me down. We inch wormed down this way, then simul downclimbed the ice section until we were back to snow. Light was fading and clouds rolling in and we were happy to have our tracks to follow in the waning visibility. As a backup I had also recorded a GPS track on my watch in case our tracks got blown over. We quickly simul downclimbed the snow, reaching the rock band at sunset. By then we were engulfed in clouds and stuck in a whiteout. Unfortunately the wind had filled in our tracks below there with snow and navigation became difficult. I was able to follow our rough route, verifying on my watch every few minutes that we were still on track. By the time we reached the ice section just above camp we finally needed to turn headlamps on. We each got our tools out and very carefully downclimbed the ice. It seemed more challenging this time and we probably should have rappelled it, but we were soon down and back to the tent by 9pm. We radioed Dima and he sounded relieved we were back at camp. It was my turn to melt snow that night so I stayed outside another hour. I think we were both dehydrated that day and appreciated chugging a bunch of warm water. Aug 10 The wind picked up significantly soon after we got to camp and didn’t relent all night. This made sleeping difficult. To save weight we had brought Andreas’s tent, which lacked a vestibule. But this meant to get any ventilation we needed to unzip the door. With all the wind , snow invariably blew in all night. The result was I got hardly any sleep. Another consequence of the wind was snow was drifting up against the tent all night, and even on the slope above the tent. By 7am a small sluff released above the tent and slid into the side of the tent. It wasn’t dangerous, but I was still startled enough to immediately jump out of the tent and start digging it out with my bare hands. It was still extremely windy as I was digging and this would not have good long term consequences for my fingers. With the continuing wind we didn’t feel safe staying where more snow could accumulate and slide. It would have been great to just ride out the storm in the tent, but we reluctantly started packing up. We then roped up and started looking for a new spot. Unfortunately there was zero shelter up there at 6600m. Behind the serac had been the only sheltered spot, but that likely contributed to the snow drifting there. We knew it would likely be sheltered lower below the ice pitch, so we started descending. We made it to the top of the ice but then I noticed Andreas was missing a crampon! This had happened on Khan Tengri and I’d fashioned an extra strap to keep it on but it had fallen off again anyways. This was a big problem with so much ice to descend. We started back up to look for it but with so much deep snow we’d descended through we eventually decided it was futile. Andreas would just have to try to get down with one crampon. That meant I’d have to lead the way making good steps and setting good rappels on the icy sections. At the top of the ice I found a V-thread anchor left by the russians and backed it up with a screw. I belayed Andreas down to the anchor, then I rappelled first. Luckily the doubled 60m rope was just barely long enough to get down to continuous snow. Andreas followed and we were soon roped back up descending the steep snow. We descended through deeper snow, needing to break trail in many places. We soon reached the top of the rock step and I retrieved my stashed rock rack. I then rigged up another rappel at the slung horn and descended 30m down the steep snow slope. At the bottom I slung another horn as Andreas followed. From there we rapped over the rocks to a boulder sticking out of the snowfield. We then roped back up to downclimb the snow. With all the wind overnight I was a bit concerned about shallow fresh windslab on the slope, though, so I looped the rope over a rock to belay Andreas. Indeed, once he got 10ft out he triggered the top 6″ of slab to slide off. He managed to jump out of the way and I also had him on belay so there was no real danger, but it was certainly startling. With the slope now stable we easily marched across. At the bottom of the slope around 6100m we found a broad flat area far from any snow slopes and decided to pitch camp there. The weather was supposed to improve the next day and we thought it best to ride out the wind in the tent and save the big descent for better weather. We quickly got the tent up and started melting snow. Once in the tent I realized I had been neglecting my hands all day and my fingers were all numb. I guess I had been so concerned with setting up good rappels quickly and making sure Andreas could get down safely with one crampon that I had just ignored my cold hands. I knew there was a risk of them getting cold again the next day, and refreezing is the worst thing you can do to cold hands. But leaving them cold all night seemed like a bad idea. So I stuck them in my arm pits to rewarm them and vowed to keep them warm the next day. The wind picked up that afternoon and night and we had a lot of trouble keeping the stove going outside. I really wished we had a vestibule. As a result we probably didn’t make as much water as we should have. And, like before, snow was blowing into the tent all night through the small opening we needed for ventilation. As before, I got very little sleep that night. The forecast was for dry weather the next day, but then storms rolling in the next day. We definitely wanted to make it the whole way back to basecamp Wednesday if possible. Aug 11 By morning my hands were mostly warm though still a little numb. The morning was clear but cold and we got moving by 9am. Unfortunately I needed to lead to kick Andreas good steps, and needed to hold onto my cold ice ax since the terrain was very steep. I found it very difficult to keep my hands warm and for the most part they just got cold again. Unfortunately this would have bad consequences later. Below the rappel down the mega cornice We downclimbed the steep cornices, vaguely seeing our old tracks sometimes but mostly I had to break trail again downhill. This was surprisingly difficult. We soon reached the mega cornice we’d need to rappel, and unfortunately couldn’t find any anchor from the russians. I suspect they rapped off a picket, but it had since been buried in new snow. So near the lip I built a picket – ax anchor, then rapped over the edge. Andreas then removed the ax and rapped off the picket, which we left there when we pulled the rope. I had my email written on it so maybe someday someone will return it to me (but not likely). Downclimbing the cornices (photo by Andreas) We belayed each other down the rest of the snow slope in case of a slide, then I continued breaking trail down the ridge. We soon reached the top of the rock step, and I was pleasantly surprised to find a fixed rope there! I was prepared to leave a picket and sling a horn to make multiple rappels down, but apparently the russians had decided to leave a 60m rope there for all 6 of them to make a single full rappel. We backed up the anchor with a picket and I went down first. Unfortunately the rope was about 5m too short, so at the bottom I had to detach myself and downclimb the final snow arete unprotected. But then I made an anchor and when Andreas reached the bottom I threw him the end of my rope and belayed him to safety. Downclimbing the last of the big cornices From there I led the way across the final lower cornices. I tried to follow the vague hints of the russians tracks though mostly I couldn’t see them. As before it was a balance staying as far from the edge of the cornice as possible without getting on too steep of a snow section on the left. There were a few steep downclimbing sections but we eventually made it below the triangle at 5300m. We then breathed a huge sigh of relief because we were finally below the danger zone and could rest easy for the remainder of the descent. Since it was no longer steep and didn’t warrant crampons I finally took a break from leading and let Andreas lead. It was then I realized how truly worn out I was. I think breaking trail 90% of the way on summit day had taken a lot out of me, and leading the way and breaking trail all of yesterday and all of today had zapped my remaining energy reserves. I really needed a break. It was great to have Andreas breaking trail down, but by then I was only moving half his speed at best. We made slow progress down, by now following the visible tracks of the russians. By 4pm we reached the flat icy section of the Zvezdochka glacier at 4500m. We radioed Dima and he told us congratulations. He knew we were past the danger zone and now had a relatively easy walk back. Interestingly, the russians tracks seemed to simply disappear in the middle of the glacier. Unfortunately we later learned they had had an accident up on the cornices Aug 8 and a helicopter had to come evacuate them there lower on the glacier (see full account here https://explorersweb.com/2021/08/19/how-valentin-mikhailov-died-on-pobeda/). I led the way on the ice weaving around crevasses until we met up with the normal route. It was pretty hard to stay on the route since most of the flags were missing, but I eventually found it and followed it back to the moraine. In the last few hundred feet I had to belay Andreas a few times on ice screw anchors so he could get through sections without a crampon, but we eventually got off the glacier. We found our stashed hiking boots but someone had stolen Andreas’s stashed hiking pole! I’m not sure what would possess someone to do this. I suspect it is the same person who stole the crampons a hungarian team stashed nearby also. We were soon changed into our hiking boots with our Olympus mons strapped to our pack and started hiking out. In general it was straightforward following the cairns out, but got more difficult when darkness set in. I was still moving extremely slowly, and I can never remember ever being that worn out from a mountain. Luckily Andreas was nice enough to slow down and hike with me. We actually got passed on the way by the Piolet D’or team coming back from stashing gear for topographers peak. By 930pm we finally staggered back to camp and let Dima know we were back. Luckily the generator was still on and the cooks had saved some mushroom pasta and corn for us. Some of our friends – Paul and Felix – were still in the dinner tent, along with two new climbers Jon and Rob. They all congratulated us for our climb. At dinner I finally dared take off my gloves to survey the damage to my hands. It was bad. Most of my fingers had blistered and they were all numb and tingly. I knew I had frostbite. I kicked myself for taking such bad care of myself. I’d been so focused at having efficient safe rappels and getting down quickly that I hadn’t bothered to take care of myself when I was doing so much cold ropework in my liner gloves. It had also been very cold and windy at high altitude, which certainly didn’t help. Luckily everyone at the dinner table had experience with frosbite and gave me good advice what to do. Jon was nice enough to bring me to the basecamp doctor, who gave me some medicine and had me soak my hands in warm water. Then Paul, Rob, and Felix helped me bandage up my fingers to protect them. I talked to Dima and he said there was a helicopter the next morning we could get on so I could visit a hospital as soon as possible. We all went to bed soon after. Aug 12 The next morning we had breakfast and Dima said we were officially the 13th and 14th summitters of Pobeda this season. (I think 6 russians did the abalakov route, then 3 Iranians and 3 ukrainians did the normal route before us). Afterwards we hung out with Rob and Jon, who had just arrived to basecamp after guiding K2 and were waiting for a window to climb Pobeda via the normal route. Pobeda is Jon’s last snow leopard peak so I hope he makes it! The helicopter came on schedule at 10am and we had a spectacular ride out to karkara, then shuttle back to Bishkek that night. Link to more pictures: http://www.countryhighpoints.com/peak-pobeda-kyrgyzstan-highpoint/ Gear Notes: Rock rack to 1", four screws, two pickets, two tools, overnight gear Approach Notes: Helicopter to South Inylchek basecamp

Trip: 9 Days in the Chiliwack Range - SE Mox, Lemolo. Redoubt, Spickard, NW Mox Trip Date: 06/24/2021 Trip Report: 9 Days in the Chilliwack Range - North Cascades National Park Climbers: Jake Johnson - Fort Collins, CO Adam Moline - Sacramento, CA Emilio Taiveaho - Chapel Hill, NC Summary: Days 1 & 2 - Boat ride and bushwack up Perry Creek Basin Day 3 - SE Mox and Lemolo Day 4 - Move to Camp 7200 at head of Redoubt Glacier Day 5 - Redoubt Day 6 - Spickard and NW Mox Day 7 - Rest / Weather Day Day 8 - Attempt at West Buttress of W Subpeak of NW Mox, return to Perry Creek Day 9 - Hike out and Boat back to civilization A pilgrimage to the North Cascades has become an annual tradition and with climbing partners like Adam and Emilio, the draw to more remote and chossier locations grows steadily with each visit. This trip to the Chilliwack Range marked our first climbs in the Cascades outside of the Pickets. With Covid restrictions complicating entry from Canada, we were stoked about likely having the peaks of this range to ourselves for the week, which it appeared we did. Video I threw together of clips I took: Day 1: The first day of our adventure started as many good adventures do: on 3 hours of anxious sleep. Adam and Emilio had driven up from California on I-5 the day before and picked me up in Seattle in the late evening, not allowing much time for slumber. An early boat ride across Ross Lake to Little Beaver gave us plenty of daylight to trudge up the trail-less Perry Creek valley, but with 10 days worth of food and gear and virtually no sleep, we recognized it wouldn’t be an easy day. Emilio stretching out: The boat ride: 4.5 miles of maintained trail walking provided some early views, and then a comfortable forested grind to the Perry Creek Shelter. Views of Ross on the first mile of the Little Beaver trail: After some initial route finding and stream crossings up the valley, the real schwacking began, and I would agree with all statements of parties that have come before us - some of the densest growth that I’ve forced my body through. A classic North Cascades stream crossing: The best picture I could find of the dense growth sections: A few hours later we were blessed with some talus and space to breathe and refill on water from the creek before plunging back into some older growth for several less abusive miles. A tattered and needle-covered Emilio: Talus relief from the dense brush bushwhacking: By mid afternoon the towering summit of Lemolo was in sight, but the lack of sleep and pounds of pine needles accumulating under our clothing started taking a toll and we found some large boulders in the talus to call home for the evening. Upper Perry Creek Basin: Day 2: The next morning we were faced with a decision: to push hard to the top of the valley and ascend the snowpack to the ridge (our original plan), or to take it a bit easier and settle for camp at the top of the valley. With over a week remaining in the backcountry we opted for the later, and in retrospect this was the right decision. Bushwhacking in the upper portion of the valley: The schwacking re-intensified a bit higher in the valley and we were happy to take the evening to wash our clothes and bodies at the head of Perry Creek. Dinner and a bath at the headwaters of Perry Creek: Some underwear bouldering: Day 3: With an early start, we had the opportunity to make back some time in our schedule. We trudged up the glacier slowly and steadily, gaining the elevation to the ridge with heavy packs over several hours. Steady progress climbing up out of Perry Creek Basin: By midday we were standing at the base of the gully that marks the start of the route up SE Mox (aka Hard Mox). Leaving the packs behind, we quickly scrambled the loose but easy pitches to the summit. The initial gully on SE Mox: More exposed climbing on the upper pitches: From here we eyed our primary objective of the trip: a deliciously exposed ridge connecting SE Mox to its sub peak - known as Hardest Mox until Eric Wehrly and Rolf Larsen summited it via the East Face in 2007; They dubbed it 'Lemolo'. The lack of visitors to such a wild and untamed peak was too intriguing for us to resist. Eric was kind enough to share some beta for the region and encourage us to attempt the climb to the summit of Lemolo via the ridge (their descent route after their first ascent of the summit). Looking from SE Mox across to Lemolo: Navigating the first portion of the ridge: After about 2.5 min of admiration and intimidation, we began moving along the ridge and found it to be exactly what we had hoped for; exposed choss with just enough relief to keep pressing forward. Some sections actually did have some solid stone, and made for some of the most fun 5.fun climbing I’ve done in my life. Adam and Emilio making moves on the traverse: On the ridge - This is probably the best photo to demonstrate scale and position of the route: Upon reaching the summit tower of Lemolo, we found Eric and Rolf’s tat from 2007, and we enjoyed the views in all directions, especially savoring the view looking back at SE Mox which few have had the privilege of soaking in. In the event that this traverse to the summit is a new route to the peak, we’d call it “Process and Reality” 5.4 X. Old rappel tat on the Summit of Lemolo: Group summit selfie: Rappel on SE Mox A bit of caving beneath the upper glacier provided the evening’s water, and we settled onto a steep scree slope for the night. The layers of sky at dusk after a full day of mountain moving brought a smile to my chapped lips as we drifted into dreamland. Bivy just below the route on SE Mox: Day 4: Emilio and I sipped some coffee and enjoyed the morning as Adam descended the upper part of the glacier to retrieve a Croc that had escaped in the night and slid many hundreds of meters down the mountain. The versatile footwear was far too valuable to leave behind until our descent back into the valley later in the week. Additionally, the risk of failing to recover it later and littering was unacceptable. When we finally got moving around midmorning, the going was slow, and our route finding was unimpressive. Most beta for the area assumes an approach from the West, so crossing the Ridge of Gendarmes from the East was a bit of a trick to do onsite. Convinced that the “canon hole” described by Becky was the intended route, Adam and I waited as Emilio loaded himself into the tight gully only to be shot back out along with some airborne scree. Some failed route finding in unstable gullies: Looking back at SE Mox: We eventually found the correct route and slid and rambled and postholed our way to Camp 7200 beneath the impressive SE crown of Redoubt. View of the long and sunny trudge from Ridge of Gendarmes to Camp 7200: Gnarly broken snow and ice: Camp 7200': Day 5: With the assumption that Mt. Redoubt would probably be an easy 3rd class venture, we prepared ourselves accordingly and set off around midmorning. The glacier walking was smooth and enjoyable without the weight of the packs, and we gleefully scampered up the steeper sections on the south side of the mountain, often stopping to look back and eye lines on Bear Mountain. Climbing towards Mt Redoubt: A wild Emilio and Bear Mountain: I found the towering buttresses of Redoubt to be super impressive, and our gully of choice took us deep within the heart of the mountain. We found ourselves beneath the summit block with a couple of options, all appearing to be 5th class - although, we didn't spend too much time searching for alternatives. After making some mental adjustments and reframing the level of focus that would be required, we made the few easy moves without issue. Exploring the low 5th class options to the true summit: Knowing our return to camp would only require an hour or so, we spent the better part of the morning on top of the mountain, hanging in the shade just off the summit and traversing across the buttresses and subpeaks on the summit ridge. A morning spent on the summit of Redoubt: Downclimbing off the summit block required some focus again, but then it was smooth sailing down the gully and joyful plunging on the glacier back to camp. Downclimbing Crux: Enjoying views on the slide down: Relaxing in camp: Milky Way: Day 6: After some discussion about how we wanted to spend the remaining days of the trip, it was determined that we would try to double up and hit Spickard and NW Mox on day 6. Again, leaving the packs behind made for smooth glacier walking, and Adam and I were soon following Emilio’s charge up the firm snow of Spickard’s SW couloir in the early morning. SW Couloir of Spickard; straight up the center of the mountain (photo taken later in the day): Following Emilio and Adam up Spickard: Views of Silver Lake, a quick stop on the summit, and a descent via the south slopes made for a nice tour of the mountain. Silver Lake as seen from Mt Spickard: It’s worth noting that the prize for “Chossiest Gully” of the trip might go our chosen route back over the ridge from the south slopes of Spickard into the Ouzel Basin. Descending snow beneath the angry gully: Back on the main glacier. NW Mox up next (top left of photo): Next up was NW Mox (aka Easy Mox). Our intent was to ascend via the North Ridge and descend via the West Ridge for variety, so the crampons and axes came along for the ride as we hopped off the snow and onto the long but easy scramble up the ridge. Easy Walking up NW Mox. Spickard in background: Lemolo and SW Mox from NW Mox: The summit block was steeper than I expected but by the time I caught up to Emilio and Adam, they had already scrambled up most of the route with ice axes in hand. Solid rock led to the summit, where we realized that a West Ridge descent might have been more than bargained for. The choices were steep and intimidating downclimbing or more rappels than we had tat for. Maybe we were just worked, and a bit scared. We reluctantly returned to the glacier via the North Ridge and stumbled back to camp, out of water and a bit delirious. Returning to the shade and water of camp was a dream. But the mountain continued to provide magic to the evening as a Wolverine appeared over the col just yards from camp and charged past us on the snow, clearly startled by our presence. Wolverine on Redoubt Glacier: By the time I grabbed the camera it was a ways off on the Redoubt glacier, but I feel fortunate to have witnessed it. Likely a once in a lifetime encounter for me. Day 7: We awoke to zero visibility. The truth is that we really didn’t have plans for the day, so the weather just confirmed that it would be a rest day in camp - washing of clothes and bodies, yoga, and naps. Watching the fog ride over the rock and ice of these mountains will always be awe inspiring to me, and the lazy day flew by quicker than most. Day 8: After a full week of aggressive calorie deficit, I was feeling lean, worked, and yet somehow very ready to climb something hard. We returned through some thick fog, towards the Ridge of Gendarmes, but stopped at an impressive buttress on the subpeak west of NW Mox. Trekking through the fog: A little break in the fog, revealing the buttress: I had seen several references to this buttress being unclimbed, and we gave the weather some time to stir in hopes of making an attempt. A short break in the fog and a glance up the tower was all it took, and we roped up and moved upwards. I led the first pitch, which was primarily 4th class starting at the right base of the buttress and trending left towards the giant flake. P1, 4th class up a chossy chimney: I brought up Adam and Emilio and then sent upwards again on some steeper climbing. Thankfully the guys had a slight overhang to shield themselves from all the rubble I sent down on them. For about an hour and a half, Adam and Emilio discussed life and risk at the belay as I shouted “rock!” and tried to calm shaking calves. The featured sections I had identified from the ground were typically too loose to be useful, but I was impressed with some fun sections of face climbing that I would call somewhere around 5.8. However, an overhanging section of loose blocks turned me back on my first line. My second choice involved a massive chimney leading far left to the giant flake, but I didn't think it would protect well enough to climb safely, despite Emilio’s vocal desire to take the lead on it. I worked up again but further to the right sticking more true to the buttress, and this route - despite initially looking the most intimidating - seemed to have the most potential once I was in the thick of it. Again I worked up, 50-100 ft or so, but when I set a nut behind a giant block and the whole thing moved, my remaining stoke for the day was drained. Looking up at the second pitch options: Emilio on rappel: We rappelled back down into the clouds below. Upon reviewing some photos, it appears the steepness of the climbing eases a bit just beyond my high point, and with that knowledge to haunt me, I’m sure we’ll be back to give it another go at some point. A shot of the buttress taken earlier in the week: The remainder of the day included ascending the quicksand up Col of the Wild, and scrambling out of the clouds over Ridge of Gendarmes. Then plunging down the now-much-smaller glacier back to the top of Perry Creek Basin. Day 9: Exiting the long and remote and savage valley was a bit easier than entering it, since we knew what we were up against. We geared up for a long day and plugged away at it. We were surprised to find a jetboil and nalgene perched on a boulder in a talus field, midway down the valley. We certainly didn’t expect to see any signs of recent human activity in the valley, and finding these two items with no other clues left us puzzled. We made note to include it in this trip report to see if we were perhaps not the only party in the Perry Creek valley on 7/3/21. An open section in the Perry Creek jungle: Mystery Jetboil and Nalgene The densest sections of growth towards the bottom of the valley ravaged us as expected, swimming through trees, with many meters of continuous travel without feet contacting ground. Finally - relief as the forest opened up, we crossed the creek, and met the Little Beaver trail. Walking the maintained trail felt like floating and we were at Ross lake in no time. A boat ride across Ross Lake with beautiful dogs on board, and then, with no time to waste, we hauled up to the car to race into Marblemount before the diner closed. Final Thoughts: I believe a successful trip involves a couple things: coming back in one piece, strengthening the bond between friends, completing some objectives, but also - leaving something to be desired. For every objective I complete in these mountains, I come home with at least a dozen more to add to my list. I cannot stop thinking of the dark and intense buttresses of Bear Mountain, and I cannot help but think that if I was just a little stronger - mentally and physically - that we might have seen success on our attempt of that buttress. These thoughts will consume me and drive me to be better until I inevitably return again to test myself. Gear Notes: Light rack and too much rope Approach Notes: Type 2 fun

Trip: Tyler Peak Crags - various Trip Date: 08/23/2021 Trip Report: I don’t see any TRs for this spot so thought I would post a quick blurb. Rolf and I set out for a weekend of cragging when a less-than-stellar forecast and a glancing mention of devil’s club and slide alder in a previous TR inspired us to alter our plans for the weekend, as our recent outings have left us both with a desire for a weekend involving less walking/bushwhacking and more climbing. Tyler Peak delivered both, although Sunday was cut rather short by “stupid rain”–that rain that isn’t even really rain, just a thick drizzle/mist that is enough to get you and the rock wet, but which keeps you thinking that you can wait it out. However, yesterday was beautiful and allowed us to tick off the one multi-pitch, Junior’s Farm, a 7-pitch 5.8. Pitch 6 is the most fun: steep pillow lava up an exposed arete with jugs everywhere. Note that there are several “scramble pitches” interspersed with the “real climbing” pitches that have fixed lines; that may detract from the aesthetic qualities of the route for some. We ignored the fixed lines and just climbed the rock, but they’re still hanging there in your line of sight. Beta for the area can be found on mountainproject. The rock is shockingly solid for the Olympics, and steep, well-featured walls make for really fun climbing. There are a few camping options along the road past the trail up to the crag for those coming from further away. Definitely worth a visit. Note that helmets are a good idea: I managed to pop one handhold and one foothold off the wall over the course of the weekend and anyone climbing or just walking along the trails at the base of walls above you could easily send something down. Also watch out for bees: we found a nest in the ground and its denizens were not pleased with our intrusion. Gear Notes: rope, at least 12 QDs (we used more when we ran some pitches together), a few cams/nuts if you want to ignore the fixed lines on Junior's Farm Approach Notes: see mountainproject

The Mount Baker Wilderness line is on the crest of the range, so this face is just outside of it. Might explain the pitons instead of bolts on Green Creek Arete, which is in the Wilderness.

Rad, Great trip report! I was in the party of four you met on the way in. Glad to hear that it went for you and David. I'm also happy that we didn't have to resort to melting that snow! Our trip was written up here: Goode Mountain/Northeast Buttress. This climb was a highlight of this summer for me.

Rad, awesome write up and pictures! Thanks for bringing me along on your journey. Goode is still on my list so it is great to read this TR.

Hat’s off and great sleuthing, Jake, Adam and Emilio, Very impressed especially as out-of-WA-staters that you uncovered several significant North Cascades’ firsts on your Chilliwacks’ trip: · New approach route to SE Mox up the N lobe of Perry Creek glacier to Col of the Wild. (Our similar 1978 plan to do this was diverted from Perry Creek to Col of Nature when a party member suffered GI distress). · First SE Mox to Lemolo RT traverse (and 2A of Lemolo). (This was our plan in 1982, when a lightning storm came at us over the Northern Pickets forcing retreat from Hard Mox.) · Plus first try at the Crazy Crushed Contours Wall on W of NW Mox. Take a look at the wild contours on the map here.

Trip: Central Alaska Range, Mooses Tooth - Ham and Eggs Date: 4/5/2013 Trip Report: After a long 10hr day working my crap job as a high-rise window cleaner, my mind can't help but wander back to the Alaska Range, where I've explored, worked, suffered, and smiled each Spring since 2010. Here's a brief report from one of this year's expeditions, when my partner Paul Calabro and I climbed the 3000' route "Ham and Eggs," on the Mooses Tooth, to the col, making the first ascent of that route of the season. My trusty all-wheel-drive Chevy Astro work van was outfitted for the 4,700mi drive from North Conway, NH, to Talkeetna, AK. This is the second time Paul and I have driven from New England to Alaska. Entering the Yukon on day 4 of 5 of driving. We hit a good April snowstorm here. The frigid sky in Talkeetna was clear as I've ever seen, and we could easily see Denali from the river. Paul Roderick of Talkeetna Air Taxi tried to get us into the Root Canal airstrip right below the route, but some insane turbulance landed us... At the Mountain House, where we waited for 3 days.... In temps of negative 40 to negative 15 (low and high) Fahrenheit. Until Paul (Roderick) could swoop in and bump us up to the Canal. Here's a shot looking South down the West side of the Ruth Glacier's Great Gorge, where I spent a couple weeks bailing off stuff in 2011 Coming in to land at the Root Canal Finally at the Root Canal! But it's still crazy cold. But the views of Denali are to die for. After a few more days for temperatures to finally get above zero degrees F in the daytime, an interesting event occurred. We were amazed as a pair of very strong climbers, Fabrizio and Roger (sometimes called Lil' Rog.) of Colorado, were repulsed low on the route! When they descended, their report was dire: Deep unconsolidated snow leading to a giant snow mushroom that blocked the typically-easy ice ramp on pitch 3. The route follows the central gully, approached from the left. Photo by Paul Calabro, used with permission. Luckily, I was moving out West, and had all of my climbing gear in my van with me. Most of that I had flown onto the glacier, and so I dug out my aiders, cam hooks, daisies, and tiny cams, intent on taking up where Fabrizio and Lil' Rog. had left off, aiding around the snow mushroom. The next morning, I was treated to one of the scariest, spiciest pitches of my 12-year climbing career, replete with aiding off of pickets, a bolt from the original Krakauer ascent 40 years prior, and scratching ice out of a crack so that my cam hook would bite. I won't bore you with the details, but it was so weird that I had to take selfies. But, we had made it above the mushroom! Here's Paul following, I think he freed the icy crack. We then climbed a few pitches of easy snow to put in the boot pack up to the base of the AI4 crux pitch, which looked fat and good. A solid recon done, we retreated to camp. The next day, a storm blew in, and dumped yet more snow on our route. Thankfully, Celine Van Breukelen and partner Brian Shum (of Wasilla and Anchorage) were chompin' at the bit, and went up the route next. Though they only got in a handful of pitches that day due to the deep snow, they were instrumental in the ascents of the parties that followed by cleaning deep drifts from the route. A day later, Paul and I got an early start and gunned it for the top. The first six pitches flew by quickly. But then, the AI4 crux turned out to be a bastard. The "fat ice" we saw was nothing but a crust over powder snow, which was plastered over the prior years black, bulletproof ice. Oh, and there was another honkin' snow mushroom near the top! This 100' of "AI4" took me nearly an hour to climb. A single ice screw took nearly 20 minutes to place. I thought this was supposed to be a trade route! This is the kind of rat's nest that we had to dig out from under all the powder snow while searching for belays in the rock walls. There were very few other visible cracks for rock pro. After a couple more spicy steep steps, which required serious excavation of vertical snow to climb, I'm feeling better. A couple more pitches of wallowing in deep snow... And we've made it to the col! That's the East Buttress of Denali in the background. Now just sixteen rappels to go to get down! We made the trip in 16 hours round trip. Check out that thin, bulletproof ice! Back in town, we rub shoulders with the "real" climbers; guys like Scott Adamson and Pete Tapley, who'd just made big first ascents on the 5,000' East Face of the Mooses Tooth. I later heard from a friend who climbed Ham and Eggs a week after us that conditions were perfect for him. The weather had warmed, the route had avalanched and sloughed, and he even mentioned that there was plastic ice! I don't believe this to be a case of better timing, as my prior trip to this part of the Alaska Range was in late April and early May. People that year were getting stymied by the too-hot conditions, and Ham and Eggs was declared "out" pretty early. You get what ya get! As for me, I had to guide two Denali trips before I was done with Alaska this year. After a long season, I was ready to swear off glaciers forever. But just a few short months later, I find myself jonesing for it all over again.... Thanks for reading! Gear Notes: We carried something like 6 cams to 2.5in, 8 nuts, 4 pins, and 8 screws (mostly stubbies) and two pickets on our ascent. I would consider this a very heavy rack for the route, but I was glad for the extra gear since we had no info on the condition of rappel anchors. With two 60m ropes, every rappel was a serious rope-stretcher. Next time, I'd bring a 70. Approach Notes: Talkeetna Air Taxi is the best for flying to the Root Canal. Parties did ascend the icefall from the main Ruth Glacier, and found it not crazy difficult, but objectively dangerous.