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

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

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

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

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

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