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

The often-discussed west face of Sloan has been in the forefront of my mind for about as long as I've been winter climbing. When I first came across the stunning Scurlock photos of the face, I was blown away to learn that there had been no successful ascents of any of the major ice lines. Rumors of poor-quality ice came with every attempt up until Kyle and Porter's climb in 2020. I'm not going to lie, I was somewhat disappointed when I heard someone got to it first, but it was only a matter of time. A few weekends later I skied in with @sfuji to try and take their route to the summit. Weather changed rapidly and we spent the night in the basin listening to avalanches rip down the face as it continued to snow. We skied out the next day after some consolation pow turns. My attention then turned to the prouder lines on the main face. Still not yet entirely sure I was ready for the direct line, I set my eyes on what would become the Slither (Merrill-Minton). When that high pressure system hit in late Jan 2023, I knew it was the perfect window for the face but had committed to some other obligations. When I got a text from Tucker asking if I thought their line was previously unclimbed, I felt that same pang of disappointment mixed with the psyche for my friends. It had taken a while, but the plums were slowly getting picked. At this point I knew I had to make this a priority, If the window showed up, I had to at least try. In the summer of 2023, I went out and climbed the SW face rock route Fire on the Mountain. It was my first time actually touching the peak, and I was impressed by the rock quality. This gave me hope that the pitch up to the dagger would be possible but might need a few bolts. It also gave me the opportunity to experience the upper mountain and SE shelf descent. Fast forward to about two weeks ago when this massive high pressure system rolled into the forecast. A brief but deep warmup followed by a long stretch of cold high pressure. THIS was the system I'd been waiting for. Bozeman and Patagonia had stolen the majority of my go-to alpine partners for the winter, so I quickly exhausted my list of regulars. I began reaching out to friends of friends who I'd never climbed with before but seemed up to the task. Finally, I convinced Justin Sackett, a guide based in Portland to make the drive up for the weekend. On Wednesday the 15th I woke up in my car along the Mountain Loop and began pushing my bike up the Bedal creek road. At the time, there was a large tree fallen over the road that was impassible in a car, not that my Prius would have made it much further. I hiked in with a tag line, some pins and a small hand drill bolt kit to stash below the face. Along the way I cleared some branches and did my best to establish an easy to follow boot pack. It also confirmed that skis would not be worthwhile to bring. I snapped some photos through my binoculars and booked it back down trying to get a few hours of work in that afternoon. Scoping the dagger. The Slither is also fat for anyone keen on taking this one to the summit. That day I posted trying to get someone to go chop down that tree, and to my surprise @Manheartmountain was already on his way out there to do the work. This saved us about an hour on either side of the day, and a good bit of suffering. Our alarms blared at 2:40 am on Sunday, early enough that my body hadn't quite realized I was sleeping. We crawled out of the car and set off a little after 3am. The Redbull, gas station muffin and last night's Chipotle fought for dominance in my stomach. The approach went smoothly with the refrozen snow surface, and we found ourselves in the basin around 5. Here we ran into Rob who was planning to make a solo attempt on Superalpine. We shared trail breaking duty up into the lower gulley of the face. Below the first ice step we stomped out a platform and pulled the rope out, after taking a short break Rob continued out right across the ledge towards the Superalpine gulley. Described as WI3 in Tuckers Slither report, our first pitch involved a heinous aerated delaminating pitch of WI5. This was by far the hardest pitch of ice we climbed. It can be bypassed by walking around to the left, or possibly the ramp to the right climbed by @Marcus Russi on his 2017 attempt. It also looks like a good pitch of M5-6 climbs just parallel to our ice smear connecting at the top where the ice is better. Lots of options here, we don't really recommend climbing the same pitch as us in the conditions we found. Photo courtesy of soloist Rob. Justin on the first pitch. Deceivingly steep. The rock on the left looks very climbable, or you can just walk around. I took over for the second pitch and found the start of this pitch to also be aerated shampoo ice at the very bottom. I placed a beak and made a few rock moves to establish on the good ice a few feet up. From there a WI4 groove took me to the top of this step where I made a good screw anchor. The aforementioned beak was unable to be cleaned so it's still in place. I'd like it back if anyone else goes up there soon. Another pitch of harder than reported ice, either we had more different conditions or Tucker is a sandbagger. Likely the latter. Looking up at P2. Once again, we swapped and Justin Lead a pitch of WI3 up through a groove and out onto the onion skin cone below the dagger. Not a whole lot in terms of pro here, but incredible one swing hero ice for the follower. Now below the dagger, we took a short break and got prepared for battle. When racking up in the basin I chose to leave the bolt kit behind. This route deserved an honest attempt on natural gear before being sieged. After traversing back and forth a few times I finally chose my line and started climbing. The rock on this portion of the wall is highly featured, but extremely compact. Due to it being wet so much of the year, every crack and seam was full of frozen moss. This made climbing easier in some ways, but finding decent protection a real challenge. I slowly picked my way up, getting gear wherever I could. The terrain was pulling me right, but I eventually needed to cut back left to access the ice. Once a decent option showed itself, I made a hard traverse towards a hanging face under a roof. Finally getting a piece I was really happy with, I plugged in an additional garbage cam for good measure and committed to the steep footless traverse under the roof where I got myself a bit overcommitted. With my last pieces below my feet, and an arm wrapped around a small spike, I made a last ditch effort to press onto and sit on the thing the best I could. Barely getting enough of my mass onto this perch to go hands free, I pounded a KB into a seam right in front of my face. Finally able to relax a little bit, I knew that if I could keep it together just a little longer, I'd be on the ice and home free with the onsight and both my ankles intact. The final traverse went smoothly and I made it into the belay cave just before the sun peeked around the corner. In the warmth of the sun, I was able to revel in what I had just accomplished while Justin followed the pitch clean, securing our team onsight. The Beartooth Alpine picks still climbing ice well after a long game of "turf or rock" The gloves had to come off for this one. Unbelievably psyched. Also the point I realized I forgot sunscreen. The actual dagger ice pitch ended up being quite moderate. A steep traverse on fantastic quality ice took me to a WI3 ramp. If your biceps aren't cramping by that point, a stunning direct pitch of WI5 can be taken instead. It looks like in some years, a tunnel forms behind the pillar allowing for you to cut through, instead of around to access the easier climbing. From there we unroped and slogged up the snow slope up into the major corner at the top of the face. The occasional step of easy ice, and some snow offwidth climbing in a runnel took us most of the way up this feature. Near the top, the corner chokes down to a squeeze chimney directly up to the ridge, or you can cut right up easy snow and scrambling to gain the summit from the south ridge. I started up the chimney dreaming of the super direct but was turned back by BS sugar snow caking one side of the chimney. A fun challenge any other time than now, I backtracked and opted for the path of least resistance. We arrived on the summit at 3:45. Mooses Tooth or Sloan? We started down the corkscrew a few minutes later, and finally had the sun set on us near the bottom of the SE shelf. The diagonal steep snow downclimbing seemed to drag on forever, but we eventually made it down to walking terrain and slogged our way back around the mountain. We got back to the trailhead at around 8:20. Back at the car. Rack: 8-10 screws, handful of KB's, beaks and at least one small angle. Nuts, Single rack .1-2 (doubles would have relieved some stress). 60m rope & tagline was great for hauling the packs on the crux pitch. All the winter routes and variations I know about Photo credit: John Scurlock Orange: Full Moon Fever (AI4R, 5.8, 50deg) Crux pitches out of view Light Blue: NW face ski line Red: Borrowed Time (WI5 M7) Green: 2017 attempt Blue: Merrell-Minton AKA Sloan Slither (WI4) (AAJ) (CCTR) reportedly a sandbag by Aaron. Yellow: Superalpine FA w/out summit Purple: Superalpine with summit and better access ramp Not Drawn: Corkscrew route & Ryan Hoover's attempt to just below dagger.

Trip: Redoubt, Easy Mox - South Face (Redoubt), NE Ridge (Easy Mox) Trip Date: 01/19/2025 Trip Report: Mount Redoubt and Easy Mox First Winter Ascent of Easy Mox, Second Winter Ascent of Redoubt. Jan 17-21, 2025 42 miles hiking, 37 miles boating Eric and Nick 79/100 Winter Bulgers Jan 17 – double carry boat, motor, gear from Ross Dam trailhead to Frontage Road, sleep at trailhead Jan 18 – Carry remaining gear to boat, drag on wheels down Frontage Road, boat up lake 18 miles to Silver Creek, bushwhack to Silver Lake, hike to basecamp below west face of Solitude Peak Jan 19 – Climb Redoubt via south face (M1, steep snow, two roped pitches), return to camp Jan 20 – Climb Easy Mox via NE Ridge (M3, simulclimbed most of route), rap down south face to Col of the Wild, return to camp Jan 21 – Hike out, boat back, double carry boat up to trailhead On the northeast ridge of Easy Mox Some of the most difficult peaks in Washington to climb in winter are located in the Chilliwack range of the North Cascades, near the Canada border. I think these are likely some of the most difficult peaks to climb in winter in the entire contiguous US. Access is extremely difficult, weather is notoriously bad, snow conditions are rarely stable with unavoidable avalanche terrain, the peaks are technical, requiring ice and mixed climbing, and beta is scarce. Most peaks in this area have not previously been climbed in winter. The route I’m working on a project to climb all the Washington Bulgers (hundred highest peaks) in winter, and six of these peaks are in the Chilliwacks. This is the crux subset of project. I’ve spent several years in preparation for winter ascents in this area. I’ve previously climbed all the Bulger peaks in the summer, and that is critical but still not sufficient for success in winter. The first challenge is simply accessing the Chilliwacks area in winter. I’m following a rule that all ascents must be made legally, so I won’t sneak into the area from Canada. Starting in Fall 2020 I began scouting out the optimal winter approach to the area. Detailed route The closest trailheads are Hannegan Pass and Ross Dam, but these require 20-30 mile hikes on trails that are likely snowed over and unbroken. I skied up the Hannegan Pass trail in December 2020, and learned that the last 5 miles of road to that trailhead is closed to snowmobiles in winter, so the approach is even longer. I hiked the approach from Ross Dam in November 2020, and assessed each of those approaches would likely take multiple days in winter. Packrafting Ross Lake, Nov 2020. One option to save time and reduce the approach to a single day is to take a water taxi up Ross Lake to Little Beaver or Silver Creek and bushwhack up from there. However, the Ross Lake Resort water taxi does not run in winter. Ross Lake has no public road access in winter (or summer it seems, until the road in from canada gets completely fixed), so getting a motor boat to the lake is challenging. In November 2020 I packrafted the length of Ross Lake, and that took a full day and is highly dependent on wind conditions. That would be unreliable in winter. I considered a canoe, but that is also highly dependent on wind conditions and is too risky for capsizing in winter. Finally I settled on taking a zodiac boat with outboard motor up Ross Lake. The boat is wide enough to be stable in heavy wind and waves, with enough capacity to haul hundreds of pounds of gear. It can be deflated into manageable loads of a 70lb boat and 60lb motor. Each can be strapped to a backpack if needed. Ross Lake is in the unique situation where it is connected to a lower lake, Diablo, by road (Frontage Road), but the road is not connected to any other roads. Diablo Lake has road access, though. First test voyage on Ross Lake, Oct 2022 I first did a practice trip in October 2022 where I launched the zodiac at Diablo Lake, boated to Frontage Road, then dragged the boat up Frontage Road on deployable wheels, then launched in Ross Lake. I boated up 15 miles to the Little Beaver takeout, then hiked and bushwhacked in to the Chilliwacks. That option depended on Frontage Road being snow free, though, which wasn’t guaranteed in winter. I later did another practice trip where I double carried the deflated boat and motor down the 0.6 mile trail from the Ross Dam trailhead to Frontage Road, then dragged it down on wheels to Ross Lake. I settled on that as the optimal winter solution since the trail could be hiked in snow, and the boat could also be carried down the 0.5 mile road section in snow. The boat has a 5hp outboard motor, which goes 5-6mph when fully loaded. This is as fast as you want to go on Ross Lake in winter, since the lake level is lowered enough that tree stumps stick out of the water (and sometimes are submerged just a few inches under water). The motor is 4-stroke propane, which is clean enough to meet the strict environmental regulations for Ross Lake. The 5-gallon propane tank gives a 50-mile range for the fully-loaded zodiac boat. This is perfect for the ~40-mile round trip to Silver Creek with a little bit of safety factor. And I’ve been told be expert polar mechanics that propane is more reliable that gas for winter boating in sub freezing temperatures. This boat access method meant the hiking access component could be shaved down to 10-15 miles, which made the peaks much more accessible. From Ross Lake there are three main drainages to access the Chilliwacks – Redoubt Creek, Perry Creek, and Silver Creek. I scouted out Perry Creek in October 2023 and made a practice climb of Hard Mox from that approach. Perry Creek provided good access for Hard Mox and Spickard and was accessed from the Little Beaver takeout 15 miles up Ross Lake. First winter Chilliwacks attempt – thwarted by ice, Jan 2023. Redoubt Creek is also accessed from the Little Beaver takout and provides access to Redoubt and Easy Mox. I was not able to scout this approach, though I heard from Cascades expert John Roper it has the most difficult bushwhacking of all the drainages. Silver Creek provides access to Rahm and Custer and is on the north end of Ross Lake, and 18 mile boat ride up. I was not able to scout that approach, but have friends who had made the approach in summer. With the approach logistics sorted out, the next step is waiting for six stars to align. There must be stable snow conditions, stable weather on the peaks, low wind on the lake, no ice on the lake, long weekend, and partner available. Second Winter Chilliwacks trip – bail on first pitch of Hard Mox, Feb 2023 In January 2023 Nick and I made an attempt on Hard Mox Peak with five out of six star apparently aligning. Unfortunately Ross Lake was iced over 0.5 miles before the takeout. We attempted to bushwhack the remaining distance to Little Beaver around the lake, but that took 6 hours and we eventually bailed. That’s when we learned the ice-free star absolutely had to align. In February 2023 we returned when it appeared all six stars aligned. We made it up the first pitch of Hard Mox, but then bad weather unexpectedly came in early and we bailed. Winds were high on Ross Lake and we nearly capsized navigating through whitecap waves in the middle of a stump forest. The low wind and stable weather stars were not in alignment. Third winter Chilliwacks trip – success on Hard Mox, Dec 2023. In December 2023 all stars finally aligned, and we successfully climbed Hard Mox and Spickard via the Perry Creek approach. This was the first winter ascent of Hard Mox and the second winter ascent of Spickard. (The first winter ascent team for Spickard was Bond and Johnson in March 2023, approaching from Canada). On the return trip the outboard motor wouldn’t start, so Nick and I paddled back for nine hours. I couldn’t figure out the problem, so I bought a used gas outboard motor for the next attempt. In February 2024 all six stars aligned and Josh and and I went for Rahm and Custer. But the gas motor failed to start (I later learned residue from ethanol fuel in the used tank I’d purchased had made its way into the carburator and clogged it). One oar lock also broke because it got brittle in the cold. We ended up paddling 10 hours up lake to Silver Creek anyways, using a ski strap to fix the oar lock, then bushwhacked up and still climbed both peaks. We then paddled out 10 hours back. I subsequently started carrying spare oar locks on trips. Fourth Winter Chilliwacks trip – paddling up and down lake with broken oar lock to climb Rahm/Custer, Feb 2024 By January 2025 I had just two winter Chilliwack Bulger peaks remaining – Easy Mox and Redoubt. I had made eight trips up Ross Lake with the zodiac by then either climbing Bulgers in winter or doing practice trips. That month I was fortunate enough to meet Stephen, an expert polar mechanic. He got the propane and gas outboard motors back in working order, so I was good to go back on Ross Lake whenever the stars aligned. After all of these winter trips on Ross I learned a few lessons about the motors. For the propane motor it cannot be carried upside down, it is necessary to use an aluminum tank instead of steel so no rust gets in the fuel line, and the fuel line must be disonnected and excess pressure released before leaving the boat for days on shore in freezing conditions. This prevents liquid fuel from entering the system, freezing, and messing up components. The gas motor absolutely cannot touch ethanol fuel. Different valley options to approach Redoubt and Easy Mox With the boat motor fixed I started doing research on Easy Mox and Redoubt. The shortest approach would be Redoubt Creek, but that also was supposedly the most difficult bushwhack so might actually take the longest. In theory the peaks could be accessed from Perry Creek if we could cross Col of the Wild. However, in December 2023 we noticed the Perry Glacier was melted down significantly from historical levels. This meant accessing the col required climbing a pitch of downsloping snow-covered slab and surpassing tricky cornices. So that approach was likely out. The Silver Creek approach was the longest distance-wise. However, from February 2023 I learned that there is an old trail the first few miles to an abandoned cabin. Beyond that the bushwhack is easy through mostly open forest. That would likely be the optimal approach, with predictable timing to Silver Lake. We would then cross to the Lake Ouzel cirque and access the peaks from there. For the routes I researched that Mt Redoubt had previously seen one winter ascent in February 1977 by Barely and Rowatt via the NE Face. They approached from Canada. I had previously climbed the standard south face route in summer, and I suspected that would in fact be the easiest winter route. But it crossed long stretches of steep snow and required very stable conditions. Easy Mox had never been climbed in winter, and I wasn’t sure what the optimal route was. I’d previously climbed the standard NE Ridge route in July, and that is the least technical route. However, it requires climbing one slab pitch to gain the ridge, and that might be sketchy if only thinly covered in snow. Also, the ridge looked corniced in February 2024 when I saw it from Custer and Rahm. However, in December 2023 it was not corniced when I saw it from Hard Mox. So it was possible it would be climbable in late December or January. Another option was the southeast face route directly from Col of the Wild. This was more direct and not corniced. However, the upper section is slabs that might be sketchy if thinly snow covered. Finally, the west ridge route was a possibility. The only known ascent was the first ascent in 1964, but it appeared to be only a few pitches, though likely the most technical of all the routes. By mid January it appeared all six stars would align over the long MLK day weekend. The snow was very stable with high pressure parked over Washington for the forseeable future and low wind over the weekend. Washington had experienced above-normal temperatures over the previous few weeks, and satellite images confirmed upper Ross Lake was completely ice-free. Nick and I decided to go for Easy Mox and Redoubt. Easy Mox was my crux remaining winter Bulger, and would be great to check off the list. The Monday before the weekend I picked up the propane motor from Stephen up near Bellingham, and he did an amazing job getting it up and running. I did a test ride for a few miles in Lake Sammamish on Tuesday and everything worked fine with the boat. Our plan was to boat up to Silver Creek, then bushwhack in to a basecamp. We would climb Redoubt first since it was easier and would give us views of Easy Mox to plan out the route. We would then climb Easy Mox and hike and boat out. We would use snowshoes to avoid relying on a seventh star to align – skiable snow. On our first Hard Mox attempt we’d brought skis and bailed at Perry Creek when the snow conditions weren’t good for skiing. By using snowshoes we could plod up even if the snow was icy. The only possible question mark was whether it would be getting too cold. The peaks were forecast to be between 5F – 15F, which was cold for technical climbing but doable since the wind was forecast to be low. However, at upper Ross Lake the lows were forecast to be around 15F-20F for multiple nights with low wind. That is the shallowest part of the lake, and with calm nights there was a risk it would freeze over. We could likely boat up on Saturday since that would be the first cold morning and the water would likely still be warm from the previous weeks. But there was a risk we’d return to the boat at the end of the trip and be blocked in by ice. But, daytime temperatures were supposed to be slightly above freezing and we expected the sun would help melt any thin ice. So we decided to go for it. Worst case, if we got blocked by ice getting out we could hike around the north edge of the lake to Hozomeen and hike back out the 30 miles to Ross Dam down the east bank trail, which was likely snow-free. That would not be ideal, of course. Packing up at Ross Dam trailhead Friday Friday I set my NWAC-scraping Python code running to send me daily avalanche forecasts to my inreach. Then we loaded up in my truck and drove to the Ross Dam trailhead by 4pm. That evening we made two carries of loads down to Frontage Road – the first load was the boat and boat accessories bag, the second was the motor and propane. We then inflated the boat and got it set up for a quick getaway. I considered storing the propane tank in the truck overnight to keep it warm, but we decided it would be smarter to leave it out in the cold. This would be the coldest temperatures I’d ever run the motor (~15F). If it started up in the morning from being that cold, we’d have confidence that it would also start up for our return trip. But if I kept the propane in the truck over night we wouldn’t get that data point. We did, however, put the propane tank in a duffle bag next to the boat overnight to protect it from frost, and wrapped a tarp around the motor to keep it a little warmer. Dragging the boat down Frontage Road We slept in the truck that night at the Ross Dam trailhead, and were the only ones there all night. Saturday Our plan was to hopefully make it all the way to basecamp on Redoubt Glacier by Saturday evening, so we needed to start early. However, boating in the dark was risky because of the submerged stumps on Ross Lake. From all my trips on Ross I know the problem areas at different water levels. The water height is controlled by dam operators based on the energy needs of the greater Seattle area, and this varies throughout the year and is hard to predict. But it is published online by USGS (https://waterdata.usgs.gov/monitoring-location/12175000/#dataTypeId=continuous-00065-1922206742&period=P7D&showMedian=false). My usual strategy is to compare current lake level to past levels when I’ve boated on Ross. This weekend was 1564ft, which was 5ft higher than in February 2024 when I’d boated up to Silver Creek. On that trip the only problem areas for stumps had been Devil’s Creek and Silver Creek. (For reference, when it is below 1550ft there are many more problem areas throughout the lake, both near the shore and in the middle, down lake and up lake, and this is very scary at night). With this water height it was ok to boat in the dark until Devil’s Creek, but we wanted daylight beyond that. I’ve previously tried boating with super bright off-roading headlights connected to a motorcycle battery on the front of the boat. But it seems like Ross Lake is always so foggy at night in winter that visibility still isn’t great, even with the special yellow fog lights. That battery is really heavy, so we’d bring two smaller bike lights instead. They could last a few hours on the highest setting, which would be sufficient. And we’d be boating through safe areas at night anyways, so it should be ok. Loading up on Ross Lake This meant we got packed up to go at 4:00am. Just before leaving I remembered to set up four mouse traps in the truck. Ross Dam is one of the top ten mousiest trailheads in the state, and I usually come back to find mouse poop in the truck if I don’t set up traps. We ferried the last load of climbing gear down to Frontage Road, then loaded up the boat. We put the gear as far back as possible over the wheels, then rigged up a climbing rope on front so we could both drag it down the road. It’s important for our steps to be synchronized when walking for maximum efficiency. Down at the lake edge we wheeled the boat around the resort truck parked there, and we were grateful that it was far enough to the side to allow us to squeeze by (this is not always the case). We layed the big tarp in the boat, then put the two packs in. Then we put a bag of sharp objects (snowshoes, ice tools, poles, crampons) double duffled on top, not touching the boat at all. We then folded the tarp over top and strapped it down with bungees. This would protect the gear from water spray in case we encountered heavy waves. We each layered up, put on our dry suits, put on life vests, then put down jackets over everything. Nick wore his 6000m Scarpa double boots and I wore my 8000m Olympus Mons double boots. We knew the boat ride would be about 3.5 hours sitting in the cold, so needed to dress as warm as possible. I got in first, then Nick got in and pushed us off. I retracted the wheels, then rowed out into the middle of the lake and tried to start the motor. It was very reluctant to start, likely because of the cold. I would do 15 pulls, then rest, then repeat, then rest. This went on for about 10 minutes. I started talking about backup options, but then it finally started! One trick is that it needs to be a very sudden jerk for the pull, not just a slow continuous pull. By 5:30am we were finally cruising up the lake. I started out slow so we could make it through the water bar. The resort strings up a bunch of floating logs as a wave break, and there’s one narrow gap for boats to squeeze through. If you were cruising up at night it would be very easy to not see the logs and crash into them. The gap gets moved to different locations every time I go there, so I had no idea where it was. Luckily they place reflective cones on each end, though. This day it was on the far north side. Boating up lake, looking back at Jack mountain We carefully made our way through, then on the other side I turned the motor up to max and we reached cruising speed of 5.7mph. I’ve gotten pretty familiar with all the features of the lake over the years. We soon rounded Cougar Island, and I resisted the urge to cut through the gap with the shore since the submerged stumps were risky there. We went past Roland point, and Big Beaver on the left, with Pumpkin Mountain sticking up in the dark. We then rounded rainbow point and then reached the bridge over Devils Creek just as the sun was coming up. Taking out at Silver Creek Luckily there were no stump problems, but we had enough daylight by then to see at least. We beelined to Tenmile Island, then past Lightning Creek and on to Cat Island. Beyond that we started encountering wind and waves that were apparently coming out of the Little Beaver valley. This was unexpected, and we got sprayed with water as the boat cut through the waves. It was so cold the water instantly froze into verglass on our jackets and on the boat. Luckily the wind was localized and by Jack point it had died down again. Walking to the campground Finally, we could see the fan-shaped outlet of Silver Creek. I wanted to land as close as possible to the campground, but it was located on the north side of the fan. We could see the lake ended just north of that, with many stumps sticking out. That meant shallow water with a higher risk of freezing over, and also more danger from stumps. So at 9am we landed on the south end of the fan where the water was deeper and less risky. We quickly unloaded and left all the boat supplies in a duffle in the boat. We wrapped the motor in a tarp to protect it, then I disconnected the fuel line and used a screw driver to depress a valve to release excess gas. We then put the propane tank in a black duffle so the sun could help warm it. At Silver Creek After a 10 minute walk through beach covered in 5ft tall stumps we reached the official Silver Creek campground. It had a dock that I don’t think has seen water in years (judging by all the grass growing around it). We had a quick snack at the picnic table and left a little bit of food in the bear box, then headed out at 10am. Our packs were very heavily loaded with snowshoes, double boots, and ice tools strapped on the outside. Based on my previous trip I knew the optimal route up Silver Creek was to cross near the outlet to the north side, then pick up the old miners trail. We carefully tiptoed over icy rocks and frosty logs, and made it into the woods on the north side. I had my previous GPS track loaded on my watch and soon picked up the old trail. The woods are generally very open, and the trail long ago abandoned, but the trail still allows for quicker progress than bushwhacking. Bushwhacking to the cabin We cruised up the trail for a few hours and hit snow starting around 2500ft. Shortly after that the trail disappeared at the old cabin site. Unfortunately the cabin got smashed in by a tree and is now just a few wall sections providing no shelter. Beyond the cabin the woods are generally open and travel easy. The ground soon got icy enough that we ditched our hiking boots in a bag tied to a tree and switched to double boots and crampons. The snow eventually got deep enough to switch to snowshoes around 3000ft, but the snow was consolidated enough to not be difficult trail breaking. We took turns and by 3:30pm we reached the head of the valley at the base of the cliffs below Silver Lake. Here we roughly followed my February route, which was to climb up the right side of the drainage following the lowest-angle treed slopes. We got halfway up in snowshoes, then continued in crampons as the terrain steepened and the snow got more firm. Nice open forest above 3000ft. Darkness set in half way up, and we continued breaking trail through mostly consolidated snow on the south-facing slopes. By 7:30pm we crested the outlet of Silver Lake and stopped to top off our water bottles in the surprisingly unfrozen outflow. That would have been a nice place to camp, but would not be close enough to our objectives. We switched to snowshoes and continued across the frozen lake and up through the Spickard-Custer col. On the other side we dropped down to 7000ft and traversed on low-angle slopes to the base of the west face of Solitude, just before the Redoubt Glacier started. We decided that was close enough to be our base camp, and it would be nice to have a camp not on a glacier so we wouldn’t have to worry about crevasses. So we dropped our gear at 9:30pm and set up the mega mid tent. So far everything was going very smoothly and mostly according to plan. Starting up Sunday morning Sunday We left camp the next morning at 7am and roped up for the Redoubt Glacier. We generally stayed on the shoulder at 7000ft traversing underneath Solitude and past Easy Mox. Interestingly, we noticed the slab pitches up to the Easy Mox – Solitude col were covered in snow, which meant that might be a viable route option. Also, the northeast ridge appeared to be uncorniced. We kept that in mind for selecting our Easy Mox route. Approacing Redoubt We transitioned between crampons and snowshoes, but never sunk in the snow too much. Within a few hours we reached Redoubt Col and our first sunshine of the day. Beyond the col we unroped and scrambled through the rocky gap between Redoubt and Redoubt southeast peaks. On the other side we traversed steep snow slopes and decided to ditch the snowshoes and poles. As expected, the steep south facing slopes were well consolidated making for very secure cramponing. At the cannonhole We continued to the middle of the base of the south face, then I led the way kicking steps up with both technical tools out. Around 7900ft when the slope angle eased I traversed left over a ridge then continued up on lower angle slopes. By then clouds rolled in and it started lightly snowing. So much for the sunny weather forecast. I think in the Chilliwacks you always have to round the weather forecast a bit worse than expected. I had last climbed Redoubt in 2018, so my memory of the route was a bit rusty. But Nick had just climbed it in summer 2024 and rememberd the route. He led the way up the appropriate gully on the right. (I’m not sure if this is the normal route, but it certainly worked). By 8500ft we encountered a cliff band, and we did a few mixed moves hooking rocks to climb up and traverse left through it. We then encountered a complex set of snow/ice gullies leading up. Nick leading out of the cannonhole In general we climbed up and left, linking gullies together, and the climbing was fun and secure. With umbilicals on the two tools I was always connected to the mountain. Finally we traversed left to a broad gully I remembered with a big cannon-hole rock at the top. We slung a hurn and Nick belayed me across and up into the cannon hole. This section was 5th class in summer but was covered in snow now and no problem. I found a rap anchor under a chockstone and belayed Nick up. I then passed him the gear and he got the honors for the last pitch. Nick climbed over the chockstone and pass through the canonhole to the north face, then led a short pitch up to the summit. I followed, and was blasted with wind. We both topped out at 1:30pm, and wrapped a cord around the snowed-over summit cairn for an anchor. On the summit Our timing was just as planned, to be doing the technical pitches during the warmest time of day. The views were amazing of British Columbia to the north, Bear Mountain to the south, and the Moxes to the east. The wind surprisingly eased up enough that we hung out for 5 minutes admiring the view. Then we started planning our retreat. Nick remembered a rap anchor on the south edge of the summit ridge, but I dug around and couldn’t find it. That’s a common problem in winter. So instead we slung the summit cairn and rapped off that. I think someone climbing in the summer will be surprised to find that anchor there, but in the winter it’s just as good or better than a snow bollard. Downclimbing the south face The rope barely reached the gully below. From there we slung another horn and did one more rappel down our ascent gully. We then downclimbed unroped, following our up tracks. The temperature felt surprisingly pleasant on the sunny south face with no wind, even though it was probably in the teens. We traversed back over the rock col, and then entered the shade. The wind picked up and it got significantly colder. We roped back up at Redoubt col and returned back to camp through heavy wind that at times jostled us around. That was unfortunately not in the forecast. We got back by 7pm for a 12 hour day. We had removed the poles from the mega mid tent and dropped it down to the ground so it wasn’t affected by the wind, but we knew it might struggle once we put it back up. So we spent an hour building solid 5ft tall snow walls around the tent. Fortunately the snow was compact enough to make excellent bricks. After melting a few liters of water we stuck in our earplugs to help with the flapping tent noise and soon got to bed. Hiking back to camp Monday Easy Mox was the crux of the trip and we knew it would require more techincal climbing. The temperature was still supposed to be cold, so we planned to hit the technical climbing during the middle of the day for maximum warmth. Based on the conditions we’d seen Saturday with the uncorniced NE ridge and snow leading to the col, we planned to climb the standard NE ridge route. I think the West Ridge might have been faster and more direct, but having never climbed it before it seemed like a lower chance of success with too many unknown variables. Approaching the first pitch to the NE ridge We left camp at 7am again and broke trail over our windblown tracks back to the Redoubt Glacier. We kicked steps up to the edge of a bergschrund below the Solitude-Easy Mox col and ditched our poles and shovels there. I don’t recall this bergschrund existing in 2018, so it appears the glacier has been receeding significantly. Luckily there was a good snow bridge on the right side, but I bet late season that is difficult to cross. I took the first pitch, crossing the bergschrund ont the right then traversing way left to a rock outcrop to get a piece in. The snow got very thin at times on the slab, and I was careful to work around those sections. We shortened the rope to 15m for efficiency and simul climbed up, always making sure to have a piece between us. I eventually topped out at the col and belayed Nick up. Starting up the northeast ridge looking back towards Solitude Amazingly, there were fresh mountain goat tracks leading up the ridge in the snow! They came from farther towards Solitude, but I’m not sure how the goat accessed the ridge. The lower ridge was covered in deep snow but was not corniced. I know that will likely change later in the winter, as I observed last February. In summer the ridge is class 3/4 and easy to scramble solo, but there was enough snow and ice that we decided to simul climb it. We lengthened the rope a bit and Nick took over, trying to always keep a piece of pro between us. The ridge was very fun, with great views of Hard Mox and Lemolo to the left and Lake Ouzel down to the right. The wind occasionally blew the rope over the ridge, and I had to be careful it didn’t get snagged. There were a few sections we stopped to belay, and I think the winter route differed from the summer route here. Nick leading the crux pitch Near the summit we dropped down to the south face to avoid a few gendarmes, and the slabs were well-covered in consolidated snow. This was an area we had been concerned about, but it turned out to be no problem. We finally reached the base of the crux pitch to get back on the NE ridge. Nick offered to lead, so I belayed him off a slung horn. The pitch was melted down to rock, so we climbed in crampons with the tools holstered. Nick ended up leading the whole way to the summit, and I followed. The pitch felt like M3 and was the crux of the route. By 1:30pm, right on schedule, we topped out. It was amazing to finish my last winter Chilliwacks peak, and conditions had been perfect. We paused in the pleasant conditions to admire the view over to Hard Mox. Interestingly, this time the whole upper route on Hard Mox was melted down to rock. When Nick and I had climbed it in December 2023 it was plastered in rime ice and completely white. We soon started planning our descent. We had originally planned to descend the NE ridge route, but that sounded sketchy now, requiring simul downclimbing long sections of ridge. It reminded me of descending the west ridge of Forbidden Peak in winter. That took just as long down as up and demanded a lot of care. On the summit of easy mox Another option, though, was to rap down the southeast face to the col of the wild and hike back from there. That sounded like a much faster and safer way down, and gave us a better chance of getting off the mountain in the daylight. Nick had just climbed the southeast face in summer 2024 and remembered it well. That was the fastest and safest option, so we went for it. Downclimbing the southeast face From the summit we soloed down to an existing rap anchor, then rapped down to our slung horn that we’d left our packs at. From there we did a somewhat complicated and non-obvious route of traversing, downclimbing, and traversing back between different snow gullys. If Nick hadn’t recently done that decent I wouldn’t have tried it, but he remembered it well. We soon reached an anchor and rapped down over an ice bulge. We had to leave one new anchor to rap a short distance to a ledge, then were able to traverse across back above the col. We did one more rap off an existing anchor to a lower ledge, then Nick tunneled a path through the snow on a very exposed ledge. Finally we downclimbed a short 5th class step and got back to the col. Hiking into the sunset It took about 2.5 hours down, and we still had daylight. We traversed around back to Redoubt Col as the sun set, then followed our tracks back to camp a few hours after sunset. The wind had shifted to the north, so I spent some time fortifying another snow wall, before we went to bed. Tuesday We wanted to be back to the boat Tuesday early enough so we would have time to paddle out if absolutely necessary. So we were were up and moving by 4am. We made good time back to Silver Lake, which by now was scoured down to ice in the heavy wind. At the outlet we picked up our tracks and cramponed back down, reaching the 3400ft basin by sunrise. The bushwhack out went smoothly following our tracks, and we managed to exactly find our stashed hiking boots without issue. Back to the boat. Just a little bit of ice nearby After the cabin it felt great to switch back into the hiking boots, and we were back to Ross Lake by 11:30am. We ate a quick snack at the picnic table, then headed back to the boat. Boating out There were a few patches of shoreline north of the boat covered in ice, but luckily the area near the boat was ice free. Our strategy of landing in the deeper water had paid off. By 12:30pm we had the boat loaded back up and we pushed off into the lake. Interestingly, the lake level appeared to have dropped by a foot or so in a few days we’d been out. I rowed out until we were well-away from stump danger, then tried to start the motor. This time it started after only ten pulls! I think it helped that it was the warmest time of day, close to freezing, and the propane and motor had been heating up in the sun a while before we got there. Carrying the motor back up the trail The lake was completely calm, and we cruised down making excellent time. After a few hours, though, the wind started picking up between Ten Mile Island and Rainbow point. I guess it’s not possible for every single star to align on a winter Chilliwacks trip, but they almost all did. The waves got big enough to spray us as they hit the boat, and I steered us closer to the east bank just in case we needed to escape to shore. But the waves stayed manageable, and we made steady progress. I definitely appreciated the dry suit. Finally by 4pm we cruised through the water fence and landed on shore. We each did a bunch of jumping jacks to warm up, and stripped off our soaked dry suits. We made fast progress pulling the boat back up Frontage Road, then double carried the gear back up to the truck by 6:30pm. All my mouse traps were empty, so I think the mice have different winter foraging grounds. We were soon driving back home at a surprisingly reasonable hour. The trip had gone amazingly according to plan. Gear Notes: Zodiac boat, 60m rope, rock pro to 2" included hexes (very important for icy cracks), two tools, snowshoes Approach Notes: Boat up Ross Lake to Silver Creek, bushwhack to Silver Lake, hike to base of peaks

Trip: Lincoln Peak - Southwest Face Trip Date: 01/29/2025 Trip Report: Lincoln! A peak that had been haunting my subconscious for decades, always taunting me on clear days as I drove home from work across the Skagit flats. Try as I might, I could never completely ignore it. It didn't help that it was on "Dallas's Difficult Ten" list, or that by a few years ago, it was the LAST one on the list for me to climb. By 2023 I had tried and failed on it with @kmfoerster. By the end of 2024 I had turned 50 and figured I may as well get on with some long term climbing goals. It didn't hurt to learn that @geosean also had this one peak to go on his run at the Difficult Ten, nor that @Trent was within one peak of finishing as well (South Hozomeen- he's looking for partners!). That, coupled with seeing "Lincoln" on @therunningdog's whiteboard, planted the seeds in my brain to make it happen in 2025. As @Trent would say, "It must be climbed!". And then last week we got a window and hatched plans to give it a go on Wednesday as a day trip. This was going to be a bit ambitious, we knew, and I would be lying if @Lucas Ng's TR didn't make me think maybe too ambitious? There would only be one way to find out. We started, as all good mountain trips do, with a home cooked meal with my family and @therunningdog. My son admonished us to start early for the Middle Fork so we could "get a workout in before bed". Tim and I declined and delayed as long as possible. It was cold out there! But we did eventually find our way to the Middle Fork about 9pm, settling in to a bivy at the Elbow Lake Trailhead to meet @geosean at 3:45 the next day. Sean was right on time and we bounced our way up the rough spur to where continuous snow started about 3500'. By the time we got geared up and rolling, it was about 4:15. From here, the day was pretty much a blur. We got to treeline a bit before sunrise, which was spectacular on the Twin Sisters Range We snowshoed from treeline over to the glacier where we ditched them and the stove and switched to harnesses, helmets, axe, and crampons. I think I crossed the 'shrund first about 8:30. And then it was game-on for a couple hours up to the summit. Lucas and Cole's tracks were basically gone and we kicked new steps the entire way, running across a few of their rap stations up high. The going was pretty steep the whole way, but conditions were very secure and basically perfect. We kept the rope in the pack and carefully traded trailbreaking duties up the various sections of the climb. What a position! Seward: Approaching the summit: And then, like in a dream, all three of us were at the summit block! It was 10:22am- about 6 hours from the car- meaning things had gone waaaay better than expected. @geosean and @therunningdog on the summit: The views, of course, were staggering. What a small and wild summit, especially in winter! But also, what a descent lay ahead of us. That's why I was a little concerned to see Tim start to downclimb while Sean dug the summit picket out of the snow. Uhhhhh....we're not rapping guys?...... "No Jason, let's go!" And so, I took a deep breath, put on my big-boy pants, turned around, and started down. It was a stimulating descent. Especially in this particular spot: But, by moving slow and steady, we made it safely down about as fast as we had gone up. Tim and Sean had to wait a bit for this mature mountaineer on the descent. I'm not going to lie....it was quite a relief it was to finally get back past the 'schrund and start the slog out! We stopped at treeline for almost an hour to melt snow and admire our tracks on Lincoln. It felt good to be down safe in the sun with a couple of good friends, marveling at the grandeur of the North Cascades. What a day! But January days are not long, and we had a bit of scruffy ground to cover before dark. So the snowshoes went back on, the brains turned off, and down we went. We arrived at the car a bit before 4pm, in the light, to all of the windows intact, a change of clothes, and snacks. It doesn't get much better than that..... Edit- Well, we could have remembered beer. THAT would have been better. Oh well, can't always have it all! Gear Notes: snowshoes (in winter), crampons, axe, helmet, second tool. We brought a rope and pickets but didn't use. Approach Notes: 4x4 will get you to 3500' or so up the spur.

Trip: Mount Harvey - North Face Ramp Trip Date: 01/25/2025 Trip Report: What a nice spell of climbing weather we had to start off 2025! I'm glad that @geosean suggested the NF ramp of Harvey, a climb I had done a couple of times before, but not for a long while. Last time I was on it, it was quite thin and sporty, but the word on the street said it was in fine nick and so plans were hatched to make a trip north and see if Canada was still allowing Americans to enter. @BrettS and Mike rounded out our team and we all met early in Bellingham Saturday morning. I think it only took about an hour and a half, including border crossing to make it to the TH from Bellingham- it is easy to forget what great options exist just a little bit north. The Trailhead was already filling up when we arrived a bit before 8 and we quickly paid the parking fee and started up the dry logging road at something like a dispiriting 650' elevation. It is a bit of a grunt up to the start of the route, but you get good views early on the hike in: In the 13 years since I'd last climbed it, the route has gotten mildly popular and there were several teams in front of us and at least one behind. A steady stream of ice and snow chunks rained down the ramp as we geared up and started off simul-soloing. We had the gear and rope ready, just in case, as @Don_Serl recommends in the link above, but they stayed packed away as we climbed higher and higher with perfect conditions and ample steps to draft off of. I was reminded what a great and pleasant climb it was, in a fine position! But almost too soon, the angle mellowed and we were at the top of the ramp, looking across the steep traverse that guards access to the easy ridge that finishes on the summit. Some times this portion is a crux, but not this day. It was practically a sidewalk and we enjoyed posing for some photos with dramatic views of Howe Sound below: And then we hit the final ridge, sun and views. @geosean walking just below the top: We stopped just short of the summit to eat lunch, take off the technical gear, and admire the excellent views all around. The Standard route on Harvey (our descent) is quite the popular outing on a nice winter's day and we didn't want to be in the scrum on the actual summit. This was a good call on busy Saturday, and we could look south to Baker, Puget Sound, and the Lions in peace: To the west were the endless Coast Mountains, Howe Sound, and Anvil Island: But, a winter's day, even a perfect one, is over too quickly, and we had to begin the descent before we tired of the views and position. The good thing is that the first quarter of the descent is almost as spectacular as the climb: And then it was back to the road, the car, beers, and chips. I think it was less than 7 hours car to car and was entirely one of the more pleasant winter climbs that I have done in years. I hope that it isn't another 13 years until my next visit! Gear Notes: helmet, axe, second tool, steel crampons. If it is in thin shape you may want a rope and some snow/ice pro, but it is also a comfortable solo for a lot of fatter winter conditions. If you need snowshoes it is probably not in great shape. Beware avy danger! Approach Notes: The Lions Trail. Arrive early to get a spot and don't forget to pay!

Polish goes in “easier-than-usual” condition. Get it before it’s swiss cheese.

Haven’t seen many TRs here for this route in the last few years, so I’ll chip in. Hitting the trail at 3am worked well for us (after heading down the spur to nowhere for a few minutes before correcting course). This time of year that meant arriving at the propeller cairn just in time for the darkness to begin lifting for the scramble down to the slabs. We filled up before that scramble (4L for my partner, 3.5L for me) but could have done so a little later. There was plenty flowing from ice blocks on the shelf at the end of the slabs right before you gain the ridge. We also ended up finishing the technical part of the day just before dark. Along with all the water and a little extra food we had enough stuff to ride out a bivy if needed, but intended on a c2c. We planned to simul most of the route but ended up pitching out almost all but the section of 4th above the largest bivy ledge. Including that simul block I think it was 14 pitches for us: 3 to the notch where we opted for the bypass, 3 along the bypass, 1 to gain the bivy ledge, 1 simul on the 4th class stretch, and 6 pitches up the final headwall to the summit. From where we began pitching it out it took 9.5 hours to the summit. It had rained a lot (maybe even snowed according to some forecasts) two day prior. Before the climb I had worried about this but it wasn’t terrible. It was slick enough in spots to discourage us from simuling, especially in the mossy bypass section. The climbing on this route is super fun. The rock quality is never great, but it’s usually plenty good. Finger locks and hand jams galore, interspersed with interesting face climbing too. In some of the dirtier sections there are little solid rock islands (often polished white) in the choss that lead the way, keeping the difficulty lower than you’d expect from a glance. We each had a couple minor slips on wet sections but no holds broke the entire climb. We roped up at around 5900’, expecting to simul. But my partner led into a tricky traverse so we pitched this one out to a ledge. From there, slabby moves to the left looked just a little too committing and devoid of pro, and I found a fun blocky way to the right, stopping at a slung tree. From here my partner led us to the junction with the bypass (there might have been a little simuling on that pitch). After one lead in the mossy damp bypass my partner declared his distaste for it and so I led two more pitches to join back to the crest (the second of which was 4th class, I didn’t bother with pro). At this point our beta mentioned a 5.8 layback, but I didn’t see any reason to climb it that way. It was more like 5.7 with fist on right and stemming and positive holds on left. The only real difficulty was some wet rock, but the feet were secure so it was good. Almost new moon shot, zoom in. Somewhere in the bypass section. The big bivy ledge was one of only two times we were in the sun during the ascent, aside from the first couple pitches gaining the ridge. I led up the fun scramble to the next sunny bivy ledge, below the final headwall. It seemed like our pace was reasonable enough to this point, but the summit looked quite a ways off from here. Just left of the crest a left facing corner fist crack on granite looked like an inviting start but the beta described starting right of the crest so that’s what we did instead. Starting up the final headwall. Rock was generally good going up the headwall, with lots of finger, hand, and face climbing as mentioned earlier. I took the second pitch. My partner led the third pitch (5.9) which was the crux and the best climbing on the route. As an extra bonus, the crux was the wettest spot on the route. Fun traverse right on steep rock that looks harder than it is. I led the fourth pitch, which might have been runner up funnest climbing. There was a delicate traverse through some of the more obviously loose choss on the route near the end of the pitch. The view from the top of this one down the ridge is pretty wild. Another party was finishing the 4th class section at this time but I didn’t see them again. Climbing on a Thursday worked great. No one else was at the trailhead when we arrived Wednesday night. My partner said there were two parties of 2 behind us. I imagine today (Saturday) it’s a lot more crowded. From here it was probably 5.6 maybe 5.7 to the summit. We could have simuled but were in the rhythm of swapping so kept that going for two more to the summit. Didn’t check out the final bypass to the left. Staying on the crest was fun and easy, I’d recommend it. The rock suddenly transitioned back to clean granite just before the summit, icing on the cake. Amid a big insect orgy on the summit we briefly savored the views of Jack’s Nohokomeen, Luna, Challenger and Shuksan. Baker, Larrabee, and the border peaks kept us company as we descended by a crazy prominent tower. Above a classic obvious gully I saw a trail heading down a slope and mindlessly charged toward it. Fortunately I lost only 200’ vertical before realizing this was the wrong way (carryover). Back up to the correct notch we did more traversing over variable terrain as the climb we just completed came in and out of view. The descent is really long and I wasn’t up to speed on the rockfall induced changes to the standard descent. Fortunately my partner had paid more attention in his research. After a couple of raps to Crossover pass he corrected me after I blew past the start of the crack of noon descent. There was yellow flagging marking the route, and bolted rap anchors all the way down. Trying to be efficient I down climbed in parallel with my partner rapping, occasionally joining onto the rap for damp and needly sections. Most of the route is less than 5th class. We touched down and packed up the climbing gear just in time for headlamp hour. I had a random gpx from a decade ago for reference. We headed down blocky talus which was fine enough. Gradually we reached a vegetated area. The track I had made a big diversion here. It was only about 300’ wide so I decided to just follow an approximately straight line here, thrashing as needed. My partner was unimpressed but it really wasn’t very long or so bad, plus there were berries With the groans, thrashing and berry munching we might have been mistaken in the dark for bears. Finally our reference track popped out on an obvious trail. We could have used a better reference. With all the flagging, blazes, and traffic, there’s got to be a much better way that we just couldn’t see. Once on the right trail we sailed down the increasingly dank trail. Saw some of the largest mushrooms I’ve ever encountered, plus some cool deep violet ones. We arrived back at the car a little over 20 hours after we left it. The trailhead still wasn’t crowded. Given the hour we opted to spend another night here. A couple years ago my partner and I climbed the north ridge of Stuart c2c, which took longer than this one, partly due to waiting out a squall on and after the 3rd pitch. That’s a useful baseline when contemplating long routes - seems long but hey, shorter than N ridge of Stuart, so let’s do it We agreed that Slesse NEB was a real good time and that we are probably satiated on epic days for the summer, though I might try to squeeze one more in.

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

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.

Trip: Serendipity on Dragontail Trip Date: 01/29/2025 Trip Report: In the afternoon of January 28 myself and Koby Yudkin skinned up Eight mile road to the Stuart Lake trailhead. We elected to stash our skis in the bathroom at the trailhead and hoofed it up to Colchuck lake, albeit in good time. We walked across the frozen lake and posted up in the trees near the toe of Dragon tail around 1900, approximately four and a half hours after leaving the car. The temperature inversion that evening made the bivy quite pleasant, and as we set up our tent we joked that we may in fact have come to visit the “colchuck spa” instead of going climbing. Alarms set for 0500, sleep rapidly ensued. We left the tent the following morning at 0640 and arrived at the base of the route about an hour later. Racked up, shortly before 0800 Koby led us off on what we thought was the Cotter-Bebie. It turns out we didn’t boot high enough on the pass, and began up a weakness somewhere in-between the start of Gerber sink and that of Cotter-Bebie. Blissfully unaware, or just excited to be in the ‘pine on a good weather day, the ~1000ft that we climbed before traversing left into the main upper snow field proved to be enjoyable climbing. From the ground, about a rope length links two snice filled corners and continues to a snow field where, at the top, Koby brought me up on a short KB. (P1) Above: Koby leading off on the first pitch. From here, 30 feat in an unconsolidated snow filled corner with smatterings of ice on the side got us to another snow field. No protection on this pitch, but the belay was inspiring; number 1 & 2 BD ultralights. (P2) Above: Nate beginning P2 Next Koby surmounted a collapsing snow moat into a small chimney, and up through a runnel to a good stance. I managed to avoid the chimney on this pitch with some stem moves followed by steep snow/neve to the runnel. (P3) Above: Nate coming up the runnel on P3 From the belay, I lay-backed a left facing corner for a couple moves and traversed left into a right facing Neve filled corner. Following this corner up and out to the right led me to an easy moss/ice filled runnel. We had to simul a bit this pitch to find a stance that protected the belayer from the ground to follow. (P4) Above: Koby topping out the runnel P4 Koby came up, munched a snack, and took off into a steep, rather imposing looking chimney feature about 30 feet from the belay. He managed to shuffle his way up, despite his…large…backpack, slung a tree about another 30 ft above the chimney and brought me up. This pitch was our first crux, which I followed free with hand jams, hooks, torques, scraping and grunting while contorting myself to fit the feature. (P5) Above: Koby snacking and sorting. After joining Koby atop the fifth pitch, I led up another mixed corner, traversed right across a slab and up a snow filled gully to find a protected belay on the right, putting the belayer out the the firing line for pitch seven. (P6) Above: Nate on the start to P6 Koby delicately made his way up through two bulges here. Good pro, mediocre feet, hooks and slots, and some alpine trickery brought him to a 4 piece belay in a large left facing chimney about 40 meters above me. I followed this pitch free at what felt like M6+/M7. (P7) Above: Koby on P7 From here I scraped my way left out of the chimney. A few insecure moves off the belay put me in a good spot where I could stand and make a plan to weave my way up through some slabs. I trended generally up for 15 meters through slab terrain with a good pin for protection, and then 15 more meters up and left where I slung a tree to bring Koby up. From this belay we got our first view of the fin. (P8) When Koby joined me at the top of P8 it was around 1500 and the sun was getting low, and set to dip below the horizon around 1700. We made the decision to traverse the snow field and exit into the bottom of the third couloir of Triple Couloirs in the interest of time. Two rope lengths of traversing up and left through the main snow field brought us to the easy, but difficult to protect, rock bit to gain TC. As Koby made his way up the last bit of mixed climbing, I admired the alpenglow. Once in the couloir we put the rope away and booted to the top. We arrived around 1740, snacked, un-racked and made our way down to the col and out of the building wind. Above: Koby exiting into TC. Above: Nate soaking up the sunset. We stomped back into our camp around 2000, brewed up, packed our things and made our way back across the lake and down to the trail head. After wrestling frozen ski boots back on to swollen feat, we skid Eight mile road back to our car and arrived shortly before midnight. Gear Notes: 70m single, 3 KBs, 2 beaks, set of small brassies, misc. nuts, a black totem, singles in Camelots from 0.3 to #3, 6 alpine draws, 3 quick draws. Approach Notes: Standard approach from the bottom of Eight mile road.

Trip: Lemah Mountain - via Pete Lake (3rd class) (bike approach) Trip Date: 08/31/2024 Trip Report: I used my five-day Labor Day weekend to bike from my house out past the Pete Lake trailhead to climb Lemah and bike home. I really dislike sitting in traffic, and I like riding my bike, so it made a lot of sense! This was a soul-fulfilling trip with lots of time and space to think, not think, observe, and move across the state and up to the top of a really awesome peak! I won’t bore everyone with ALL the bike details, but here’s my VCB (very capable bike) before leaving home. Ready for adventuring! Day 1 - 9:30am - 3:30pm: ~60 miles by bike. Home to Carter Creek camp on the Palouse to Cascades/John Wayne/Iron Horse trail. Started eating a lot of snacks! Talked with fellow bikepacker Craig from Chinook Pass at camp, he looked at my bike and asked what the ice axe was for. He told me about going into the Stuart Range 30+ years ago, “You could camp ANYWHERE back then!” No going back to those days… Day 2 - 6:45am - 7:30pm: ~55 miles by/with bike, ~2.5 miles on foot. Woke up to my brain singing something I hadn’t heard in probably like 25 years: “Are you ready for some FOOTBALL?” – weird stuff! Soon I was pedaling along the trail singing something like, "Heyyyy wild kitties, today's not the day, leave me alone, I don't wanna play.” Stopped when a Douglas squirrel was harassing me from the side of the trail (a common thread throughout the days) and watched it turn a pinecone over and over in its little hands, gnawing and letting the scales fall away, eating the nuts, then discarding the little corn cob. Amazing! Through the Snoqualmie Pass tunnel, turned north in Easton. Had an unexpected cortado at an espresso stand and resupplied at the gas station, then started up the road leading to (kinda chunky, kinda sustained steep, grindy grindy) forest service road. Finally, doing some real elevation gain! Left some mountain bikers in the dust after asking if I could join their bike gang for the climb. Sorry guys! But then I got to the 2.5 miles of black diamond MTB territory heading north. How do people bike up stuff this steep, and narrow?! I hiked my heavy-ass bike about 97% of this, both uphill and downhill. I knew it would be a lot of HAB for this section, but it was steep and dusty and narrow, full value HAB! Happily, there always seemed to be tons of giant delicious shiny mountain huckleberries whenever I really needed the morale boost. After that, things got a little better with four miles on No Name Ridge which is supposedly a blue square trail – maybe old skool, sandbagged blue square? I liked this Trailforks report: “Do you like pushing your bike uphill, nearly, seemingly, endlessly? Then this is the ride for you!” Definitely rode more than 3% of this section, but still – a good amount of HAB. However! Most of this was on the ridge, so stellar views abound! Lemah, Chimney Rock and Overcoat, The Chiefs, Bears Breast, Hinman, Daniel, and Cathedral Rock! (Stu, too, but out of the frame.) And there were actually some really good flowy sections with nice trail. Stopped and watched/listened to a couple of grouse (maybe mom and one juvenile?) traveling along talking to each other. After what felt like a very long time, I reached the end of the climb and the gravel descent down to Cooper River was AWESOME, smooth and fast. Soon I was at the Pete Lake trailhead filling out my little ALW permit and continuing onward on my bike! You can go about 2.5 miles until the ALW boundary where I made the transition to backpacking mode and stashed my bike in the woods. From there I quickly made my way to Pete Lake (about 2 more miles) and found a truly stellar somewhat secret campsite and settled in for the night. Day 3 - 6:30am - 7:45pm: ~13 miles on foot. Lemah! This was an interesting route that included a lot of slab walking, waterfall slabs, tarns and amazing views everywhere. Beautiful start when you start on the climbers’ trail, next to waterfalls and pools of Lemah Creek. I had to do a little extra gain to get this photo, but you can see the route -- along the right side of the marshy area, up the gully, up most of the snow finger, then traverse across, below the second ridge-toe, then the scramble up to ridgeline, along the ridge, and then up the main summit! Whinnimic Falls on the left: The B2 schwack was not that fun, but could have been worse. The gully was Not Fun. It's a cool canyon, memorable feature, but so much churned up, unsettled rock and sand and all the rest. Going earlier in the season seems like a smart and fun snow climb (bring the skis). I took the snow finger up to around 6100’ and then crossed a few some other snowfields (but could have stayed off if I wanted). I was really happy that there were no real issues with the snow – no weird moats, no difficult transitions, no blue ice that I had to go around or anything. I only saw a couple patches of bare ice and a couple of holes, but I didn’t need to go anywhere near them. And none of the snow was very steep and it was all soft enough for the aluminum crampons on my trail runners (glad I had the axe). Lucked out with the freezing levels being so high during this time! Fun slab walkin' (view of Three Queens and Chikamin I think): Lots of solid and enjoyable scrambling in the upper parts of the mountain (lots of options for 4th class if you wanted it): Final scrambly bits to gain the ridge: : Summit views were incredible! Right next to Chimney Rock and Overcoat. Seeing Burnt Boot Peak, Big Snowy, Chikamin, Huckleberry, Thomson, Stuart, Baker, Shuks, Tahoma…Really amazing. Also, lots of flying ants on the summit! Maybe a reproductive swarm of western thatching ants? For the down-scramble, I had Mista Dobalina stuck in my head. I saw a pika pretty close up, then a marmot pretty close up, lots of grasshoppers. On the way down the gully, I was surprised to see a couple coming up. They were planning to do a loop, not climb anything. I said something about “So is this the obvious gully?” and the dude didn’t get it. Awk. Toward the bottom of the creek where things start to level out, saw a couple of those water birds that do the little squat dance (American Dippers or water ouzels). Amazing birds! And lots of huckleberries again, even a few thimbleberries that were still pretty good. I was going to see if I could bypass all of the alder by just wading through the ponds. Unfortunately the water started getting too deep but for a very serene six or seven minutes I was just wading quietly in this really nice clear water up to about my waist and it was awesome, lots of tall reed-like grass around me, I felt like a water creature. If I had had the ability to make my stuff waterproof I would have loved to have traveled by water and bypassed the schwack. The water was cool and refreshing; a really special moment. Later, closer to the actual trail, I ran into another couple of people. Emily and Sky. They were super friendly. Maybe 10 minutes after that I ran into another couple of people! Both parties were trying to camp up on the beautiful domes above the creek. Day 4 and about half of Day 5 were biking home. Pete Lake trail was more fun on the way out, and then there was an amazing paved descent down to the Cle Elum River valley (shirt dip), an experience of culture shock when I rolled into Roslyn’s Sunday farmers/street market (so loud, so many people), super hot riding the trail back westward (another shirt dip in the Yakima). When I stopped in Issaquah to see if I could see any salmon, I saw two making their way up the creek! A great trip! Gear Notes: Light axe, light pons, at least 6 voile straps Approach Notes: https://ridewithgps.com/routes/47332364

Trip: Snow Creek - The Chisel (North Face, 5.9) Trip Date: 06/14/2024 Trip Report: After stumbling across Jplotz's photos of the Chisel on SummitPost taken in 2006, I was inspired by the aesthetics of this pinnacle and the lack of information about it. (Edit: I found JPlotz's CC post shortly after writing up my own report! Turns out their ascent was in 2004.) Jplotz, 2006: The photo that captured my imagination Photo from 6/14/24 Working with only the 2006 photos, a brief mention in the Cascade Alpine Guide, and a location pin on Caltopo (later discovered to be inaccurate) my buddy Sam and I set off for a Cascadian adventure. We approached via the Wedge Mountain Trail, bushwhacking and scrambling south along the ridge to the point where we would drop down into the 4th class terrain and descend the 500 feet to the base of the Chisel. The bushy ridge of Wedge Mountain, looking north. The tower in the middle is not the Chisel. In hindsight, the more sane approach is to take the Snow Lakes Trail and ascend a gully (unless you have a hankering for a scrappy, scrambly day out) even though the mileage and elevation gain are higher. This way, you can avoid most of the schwacking, the loose descent off the ridge, and the heinously overgrown road to the Wedge Mtn. Trailhead. The second crux of the day (the first being the road) was locating the Chisel. Caltopo's pin is about 400 feet too far north, and this caused some confusion as we continued down the ridge with no Chisel in sight. After traversing a little farther and scrambling up to a viewpoint, we finally laid eyes on the pinnacle and felt a mixture of stoke and worry as we realized how much kitty litter and pine needle-strewn 3rd and 4th class terrain we would have to descend to reach our objective. The Chisel reveals itself! We hemmed and hawed for a few minutes, then started carefully down-scrambling. We made one rap off a tree, then roped up and traversed south across a dense 45˚ forest slope, using the trees for a natural running belay. Just when it felt like we must have passed the formation, Sam shouted back to me that we were close! Soon we were back on rock, scrambling to the base of the climb. We took a short break to settle in and rack up, then started up the real climbing. I led the first short step to the big belay ledge, a hand crack behind a flake. Up next was the 75' 5.9 pitch that I had seen referenced but never photographed. I was surprised by how protectable and high-quality it looked. 75 feet of 5.9 crack! I started up the wide layback, noting how much the lichen-crusted rock reduced the friction beneath my feet. At a good stance, I placed gear and moved into a section of good hands followed by good fists. More laybacking on flakes and solid gear led to the final section of hands with increasingly abundant and positive face holds. Topping out, I whooped with delight and stoke on the fun lead and spectacular position. I brought Sam up, and we took a moment to enjoy the views and take photos. There are three bolts at the top, an assortment of rusty 1/4"ers. We replaced the old tat and equalized the two best bolts, backing them up to a nut. Woohoo! Sam on rappel The scramble up and out was straightforward enough, though accompanied by many laments of the Wedge Mtn approach. Burgers in Leavenworth capped off an unforgettable day out! We initially believed we were the first to climb this feature since 2004, but the JPlotz TR reported a hole count of one at the summit and we found three. If you climbed the Chisel after 2004 and before us, reply and tell us about it! The little summit block of Wedge, a small bonus on the day Gear Notes: If you want to sew it up and have a solid anchor: Singles 4 to 0.4 Doubles 2 to .75 Approach Notes: Wedge Mountain approach is much more bushwhacking and scrambling. Snow Lakes Trail is probably much more straightforward than what we did, but longer.

Trip: Tamarack Meadows Climbing - Prusik (West Ridge), High Priest (North face), Mount Temple (West route) Trip Date: 09/07/2024 Trip Report: This seems like it has been the summer of obscure destinations for me. Places I've long thought about going but never made happen. Maybe it's because they're not top shelf destinations, but as I've aged and don't go as hard, I've increasingly found these sorts of trips fun because of the lack of traffic, because of the lack of beta, and how they've forced me back into to puzzling things out on the fly. The climbs on the north side of Temple Ridge definitely fit into this category. The dream of the 90's is alive! Or at least that is how I sold it to @Trent, @cfire, @BrettS, John and Leslie a few months back. And, minus the unanticipated smoke haze, I think it pretty much went off without too much drama. An energetic approach to idyllic camps below our climbs, time to lounge after our short approaches and moderate climbs, plenty of chocolate, and no other parties around. A great 4 day trip! I won't spoil your fun with beta overload, but here are a few photos to whet your appetite for up trip up Temple Canyon.... Snow Creek wall from the hike in: Sow and cub seen at Nada lake: Mild shenanigans to get up into Temple Canyon: High Priest (on the right) from camp: Heading to WR Prusik on Day 2 (still a classic- I hadn't climbed it in 24 years): Looking down into the heart of the Core Zone a the start of the WR of Prusik: John at a belay on the WR: John and Leslie higher up: A couple of me on WR Prusik: @cfire on the summit of Prusik: John and Leslie arrive at the summit: Shield Lake Valley: High Priest and Temple from Prusik: @Trentwas over on McClellan while we were on Prusik: Heading back to camp through Nada Pass, with Prusik above: Camp life! Night life! Goat life! Gearing up for High Priest North Face route (Beckey description works well, as does Mountaineers) : @BrettS and Leslie on the North Face of High Priest: Summit of High Priest looking over to Prusik and the peaks of the Core Zone: Summit block of High Priest from descent: We rapped off the standard High Priest descent and kept high, running the ridge over to Mount Temple. Expect shenanigans, but it goes without undue hardship! And then you have the great mid-fifth pitch to the summit of Mount Temple: and the airy rap back down: After descending Mount Temple, we admired the Meteor. Supposed the crack on this west side is "5.12- or aid. From it's top step right into a 5.10 off-width" After a final night at camp, all that was left was to reverse the shenanigans getting back to Nada Lake, including a nice view of the Black Pyramid, The Professor, Comet Spire, and the Meteor (L-R): : A lunch stop at Nada Lake to admire the reflections: And arrival at Icicle Creek, relieved to find our drinks still hidden and cold! Gear Notes: Medium Rack to 2", helmet, 60m single rope, rock shoes Approach Notes: Core zone permit needed. Snow Creek trail to Nada lake. Go right at the second toilet and find a faint climber's trail leading up to a cliff band. Find a key ledgy 3rd class ramp that will take you up and right through the cliff band., Follow rib up and left and then up to where valley rolls off. Bits of tread lead up into Temple Canyon and then disappear. Follow your nose up the drainage to about 7200' where it opens up to good camping in Tamarack Meadows. An energetic and stimulating approach.

Well it wasn't the radness that took place on Sloan Peak that weekend but with the great high pressure, Cole reached out to me about climbing Lincoln. It's been on his mind for a while and given that he was willing to do Nooksack with me over the summer, I figured I'd take him up on the offer. A flu and vacation had also meant I hadn't done something hard for a while so with a lot of stress from highschool, I decided I needed to get a little scared. I skipped the afternoon on Friday to beat the traffic up to B-ham and enjoyed a nice afternoon of trying to get caught up on schoolwork at Coles place while he was working. Once Cole was done, we did a little last minute supply-grabbing and packing before we met up with Fletcher to get a little beta. assuming it would be a quick approach to camp, we decided on leaving Bellingham at 7:30 to be at camp early afternoon. Saturday morning we leisurely took our time getting out of Bellingham. We passed the turnoff for FS 38 but eventually found our way back and made our way along the road. The road was bad but easily subaruable until the 3rd switchback, where large ruts made us park our car and start walking at 10am. I was still in a poor mood but forced myself to shut up and walk, knowing this was what I needed. The road eventually got bush-wacky but soon enough we were climbing a dense forest. Instead of going into the basin, we climbed up to the ridge along the Deming glacier and booted to around 5800' where it opened up to great views of Lincoln. From here we skinned to 6050' and set up camp by a stand of trees with a great view of Lincoln The night was rather uneventful other than Cole spilling his pasta bolognese in his sleeping bag. Luckily we both brought an extra meal so instead we just enjoyed what warmth there was to our sleeping bags(my MYOG one did surprisingly well) and thought about the next day. A decent 3:50 wakeup got us out of our bags and we traversed over to the base of Lincoln on our flotation devices(hardboot splitboard for me, ski's for Cole). From here we did about 1500' of booting before stashing our skis a little before the bergschrund. Unroped, I lead the bootpack up to the the mostly filled schrund. It wasn't too deep and it was angled but it still wasn't something you want to fall into. Feeling in my element, I tried to cross, watching my foot punch through slightly. I tried to go to the left with the same result before finding a small little step that I climbed over to the right. From on top of this packed snow step, a trusty big step got me across the schrund and onto a steep snow/ice ramp. I was confident on the terrain so I kept moving up. I continued most of the way up the steep snow/ice ramp before Cole called for me to rope up. From here we simuled with me in the lead, trying to have 2 of our 8 pickets between us at all times. One simul block brought us to the base of the X couloir where we took a break before I set off on a second lead. The X couloir was much chiller than expected, possibly due to the snowy winter conditions. From the hogsback at the top of this, I lead a 3rd simul-pitch to the summit. The snow on the climb was wallowy but not horrible. Pickets went in easily with a hand however, so I viewed them more as mental pro. After running out the last 60meters, we hit the top at noon. views were great but with these D10 peaks, we knew we were only halfway done. IMG_6959.mp4 Though I opted to down-climb, Cole was pretty tired and unsure of his condition to down-climb so we dug a deadman on the summit, pulled out the tagline, and left the first of our pickets. We found 3 sling-able rock anchors in the X couloir and by 3:30 we were on top of the waterfall with our final picket. By now the sun was on the face and with small ice chunks coming down, we just wanted flat ground. We were only able to pound in the picket halfway and mid-clip it so after backing it up with a marginal ice screw, I very nervously set off over the edge, extremely relieved to see that the ropes reached. From here it was a mediocre snowboard down the bottom half before a quick slog to camp, arriving at around 4:30 right before sunset. Realizing our two-day itinerary wasn't happening we settled in for the night. My MSR reactor burst into flames but after warming it in my bag for a little bit, it started working again and after a night of shivering, we were moving around 9 the next morning. 2.5hrs of skiing, survival skiing, and cutting through the forest to avoid the mess of slide alder later, we were back at the car. It was a rad yet expensive peak. I'm glad to never have to do it again but I truly did need it and am feeling much better now. I guess somehow I got what I came for.

Trip: Mount Baker - Coleman Deming Trip Date: 01/12/2025 Trip Report: @dberdinka and I have been skiing together a bit more than normal this season and a few weeks back I offhandedly mentioned that I would like to climb/ski Baker in the winter sometime. Turns out, Darin had been thwarted a couple of times prior and was still interested in making it happen. It didn't take much convincing to hatch a plan during the first part of this long January drought.....and one Sunday morning we found ourselves driving unusually far up the Glacier Creek road (for midwinter), parking a little less than a half mile from the summer TH. We opted to go up Grouse Creek, figuring that the avy swath would allow for skinning a bit lower than if we followed the summer trail. Not sure if this was true, but it was what we did. The higher we got, with windier it became, with worse snow. But no matter, we weren't here for the skiing and we made good time to camp at 7k in a wind scoop on the glacier. @dberdinka had brought his fancy 'mid and this proved perfect to hunkering down out of the wind while being able to melt snow in relative warmth. Brandy and whiskey didn't hurt either. Nor a lot of insulated clothing. Did I mention the wind? Baker was being stripped of all loose snow right before our eyes and I was a bit apprehensive about our chances if the wind didn't calm down. But in the 'mid, with a lot of food and spirits, the vibes were good- the wind was a problem for another day- and we had 16 hours to kill! A nice sunset and full moon lent a nice touch to the evening. The long night eventually ended, with both Darin and I catching a bit of sleep and staying pretty warm overall. But it was time to poke upwards and into the wind and so we plodded slowly out of camp in the dark at about 0630. As the day began to break a lenticular formed over the summit and then lowered almost to the col. Uh oh, this wasn't in the forecast! The wind continued to howl and we dug a hole in the glacier to wait and discuss our options. I was pretty sure I wanted nothing to do with climbing up into a lenticular (bad experience on Hood 25 years ago), but @dberdinka wisely pointed out that we may as well go until we couldn't safely, and the forecast was favorable. Maybe it would evaporate? We were getting cold after stopping for a long while and so we packed up. And, much to my amazement.... as we stiffly began to plod upwards again, the lenticular vanished! But it remained quite windy- maybe steady 30 with gusts to 45? I was getting cold and scared but @dberdinka seemed to get more optimistic the more unruly it got with wind and spindrift. He was in his element! Sensing that I definitely was not in my element, Darin memorably asked me, "Well, what did you think it was going to be like climbing Baker in the winter?" Right. Upwards we go! But not with skis. We left them about 9800' at the top of the Pumice Ridge when it became obvious ski conditions were bad and not going to get any better. View into the maelstorm: The spindrift got better as we got higher since all the loose snow was already gone, but the wind remained strong. Still, @dberdinka was right, we were going to make it! We just needed to suffer and not lose heart. But what a wild feeling it was being so high on Baker in the wind and cold! It was just the two of us and I paused a few times on the summit plateau to take it all in, grateful that @dberdinka had pushed me to continue through my discomfort. We reached the summit a bit before noon, feeling like we were standing on the moon. A few quick photos and we began the plod back towards our skis and camp. As expected, the skiing back to camp wasn't anything to rave about, but it wasn't horrible either. Much to our surprise, 15 minutes after arriving back at camp, the summit was lost in another lenticular, showing just how narrow the windows of success can be in winter..... Gear Notes: Normal ski mountaineering kit plus much warm clothing! Brandy and whiskey were helpful as well. Approach Notes: Grouse creek. Could drive within half mile of TH, snow was thin down low but got rapidly better, higher. Mostly carried skis until the avy swath.

It seemed like fate. The guy seated next to me at my WFR class casually mentioned that his goal for the summer was also to climb Cathedral Peak. Ever since a failed attempt on Goode, I'd been wanting to climb something big with a long approach, and Cathedral had been at the top of the list for a while. I like the planning required for alpine climbing. Is this a backpacking trip or a climbing trip? Yes. Do I need approach shoes or would they be too heavy? Yes. Jacob and I decided on a 4 day trip. We left Seattle for Thirtymile Trailhead on Monday morning and hit the Chewuch Trail by 11:00 AM. The first 8 miles until the intersection with the Tungsten Trail are quite exposed from the various wildfires that have ripped through the gorge over the years. It's a busy horse trail, so it was in good shape with only a couple of blowdowns and very gradual, almost unnoticeable elevation gain. Also, perfectly ripe raspberries that the bears hadn't gotten to yet: We found a small campsite after 15 miles and slept soundly for the night. The next morning, we banged out the last 5 miles to Upper Cathedral Lake and thought we'd snag Pilgrimage to Mecca in the afternoon. A late summer snowstorm doused that plan. It blew in quickly right as we were roping up at the base, so at least we didn't epic and were able to get back to the tent, where we spent the rest of the day staring at the ceiling trying to stay warm. The next morning, we asked the inReach for a forecast. It said partly cloudy and high 40s with gusts up to 15 mph. At least with no more precipitation in the forecast, we decided to make a go for it and were climbing by 8:30. The forecast turned out to be exactly correct. I wasn't exactly freezing, but the wind was sucking the life blood out of my fingers and toes. When I arrived at the first belay, Jacob awarded me official Trad Dad status for wearing wool socks under my climbing shoes. By mid morning, the sun had come out and the wind had died down. In the chockstone chimney on pitch 2, I ripped off a toaster sized flake which luckily missed both Jacob and the rope. For a remote alpine route, the SE Buttress is surprisingly clean with only a few No Touchy blocks. Still, we doubled down on being careful and finished the route in good style in just under 7 hours. After we got down, we packed up camp and made it 5 miles to the horse camp near Apex Pass before resting for the night. The next morning, we finished the loop on the Tungsten Trail. The Tungsten Trail is slightly rockier and steeper in sections than the Chewuch Trail, but I think hiking in either direction would be fine. Water is plentiful along both trails, although stopping to filter water every few miles gives your body more time to express its resentment toward you. On our way out, we met some goatpackers who were training their herd to carry their stuff for them. We felt like such suckers for not thinking of this obvious life hack. This trip was an amazing experience. I liked that it required a ton of different skills to pull off successfully: trip planning, backpacking, climbing, risk management. And serendipity! Finding the right partner at the right time to achieve a shared goal.

Trip: Cirque of the Unclimbables - SE Face of LFT and W Ridge of E Huey among others Trip Date: 07/25/2024 Trip Report: I was fortunate to be invited to join a team to the Cirque of the Unclimbables from 7/20 to 8/4 this summer. We were supported with generous funding from the Bob Wilson Grant through the Mazamas. The team also included my partner Kyle, and the duo Angie and Damon. Our chosen itinerary was to drive to Vancouver BC, fly to Whitehorse, rent a truck and drive 6 hrs (half on gravel) to Finlayson Lake, take a float plane to Glacier Lake, hike up to Fairy Meadows (4 miles, 2.8k', lots of downed trees currently) where you make camp. Almost all the routes are an hour or less walk from camp and involve hiking through meadows and talus, but no glacier travel. We reversed the process on the way out, but added a night at Inconnu Lodge which is included in the airfare if your timing/logistics allow (lodge is owned by the bush plane folks, Kluane Air). This whole process basically makes for 3 days travel on each end of the trip from the lower 48, expect more time if driving to Finlayson Lake from the states. The rental car definitely adds a fair bit to cost but allowed us to spend more time there as we were limited by work vacation, luckily we snagged a good deal on this. Flying Air North into Whitehorse was pretty great, awesome little airline with good service. At Finlayson Lake there is a basic dry cabin to hang out in while you wait for the float plane. We had to wait a day due to wildfire smoke which was causing low visibility in the mountains. Kluane Air, the bush plane company, is awesome but definitely account for weather as the old DeHaviland Beavers they run need visibility to fly in the mountains. These planes can take 4 passengers plus gear pretty comfortably. Once dropped at Glacier Lake there is a pit toilet, bear boxes, and a dry one-room cabin with no furnishings. We arrived in the evening and chose to hike up to camp that night. This hike looked minimal on paper but lots of over-under with downed trees, swarming mosquitoes, and 65lbs packs made this take 3:30... I think you could do it faster but it's not like anyone comes here to set FKTs on the approach and this felt pretty hefty. We left half our food and some extra gear at the cabin and did a resupply run 5 days later. Rental car... brand new F150 booked on sale (Labor Day?) The swimming dock at Finlayson Lake. The pickup compound at Finlayson is shared with a horse-pack supported big game hunting outfit. The Kluane Air cabin at Finlayson Lake. When you hear the plane it's time to go! Flying over the bush. Coming into land at Glacier Lake Smokey but not too bad, looking up at the approach from just after the lake. A bit overgrown. Entering the last uphill section above tree line. Hope it hasn't rained. Amazing fin feature visible from the approach. Final uphill bit to Fairy Meadows. The base camp area features two prime spots on opposite sides of the creek. Both are under massive boulders which shelter you from most weather. Each spot have 2-3 bear bins; military surplus metal boxes. There are also bolts in the rock and old rope/tat for hanging things. There is plentiful clear water, a pit toilet that is (barely) maintained by the park service, and quite a few sport, trad and boulder routes on the massive boulders. Bear bin at Fairy Meadows... some idiot left a bunch of open food and a book in this thing through the winter. Everything was moldy and slimy. We cleaned this out and packed out the trash. It still smelled so bad after being aired out for days that we didn't want to use it. Our camp under this massive 30ft boulder which reflected the sound of the creek. Note the items hanging from bolts. The not-very-well-maintained pit toilet that the National Park installed... looks like a marmot or three tried to live there through the winter. Beautiful creek in Fairy Meadows. After we arrived at Fairy Meadows, setup camp and had dinner it was quite late (near midnight?) but Damon and Angie decided they were going to try Lotus the next day anyway. They got up at 3am and went right to it. Kyle meanwhile started feeling sick (we sat next to an elderly lady who coughed a lot on the plane) and so we rested the next day and watched them through binoculars. Based on their progress we assumed they would rap off from the bivy ledge, where the rap route diverges from the climbing about half way up. However, after dinner we wandered up the meadow looking for them and spotted them on the headwall pitches 3/4 of the way up. The desire to not have to redo the lower pitches a second time had spurred them on. Given the latitude it's also only dark from midnight to 4am at that time of year. In the end they rapped through the night and were back in camp at 6am the next day. An impressive effort, but oof! Scoping Lotus while Damon and Angie send. Critical supplies courtesy of the Sav-on-foods in Whitehorse which has a bomb bulk section. UK Smarties in the bag. After another day of rest Kyle and I decided to go for Lotus ourselves. He still wasn't feeling 100% but we knew good weather wouldn't last forever here. We hoped to be a little faster than our teammates and woke at 4am. We were joined by Michael and Patrick, two of the four guys from a Montana team who were the only other party for most of our time. They graciously let us start first. We had heard the lower pitches were very wet but they had dried a bit and minimal french free got us into the chimneys. We had hoped to simul the chimneys which go at 5.7 but it was fairly steep and sustained enough to make us simply pitch out rope stretchers. Michael and Patrick did simul and passed us here but seemed pretty tired doing so and we all ended up about the same speed on the headwall. Start of the route. Wet and scary detached flakes to start. Kyle getting it done in the chimneys. We made good time to the bivy ledge and started on the headwall. The sun was strong and I was sweating in just a sun hoody. We had climbed to the bivy with two packs and now left some gear stashed here in one pack and continued up using fix and follow and hauling the other pack. The nubbin pitches were surprising spicy. Never dangerous but mandatory climbing above small nuts and cams on small face holds. The first roof is very easy on the L side and the second (crux) roof is a hand crack on the R side. This assumes you read the nubbin climbing correctly and can get yourself in line for each of these. The pitch above the crux roof is an amazing double crack, unfortunately our feet hurt too much to really enjoy it. Kyle on the Headwall Michael on the crux roof. Kyle on the amazing pitch above the roof, trying not to foot jam. It should be noted on this route that grades indicate sustained old school Yosemite style climbing with almost every pitch being 50m. It definitely feels more like a Yosemite route than an alpine route and took longer than we anticipated. Kyle and I topped out as thunder began to rumble from dark clouds to the E. We started to rappel immediately and were one rappel from the bivy ledge when it started to pour. Luckily it slacked off soon and we reached the ground after midnight, making it back to camp around 2am. After a rest day we used the last good weather day to do a resupply. Glacier Lake from the summit of Lotus as storm clouds approach. Proboscis and other cool mountains from the summit. Rappeling Lotus The rain is upon us. Setting up the bug net we got on the resupply. This was a game changer as mosquitoes were quite bad in the meadow. Scoping options with Kyle on a mediocre weather day. Scenic shots from Fairy Meadows waiting for more weather windows. After that we got one more full good weather day. Angie and Damon did Brent's Hammer (6 pitch 5.11+ steep cracks) on Terrace. Damon managed to onsight and declared it 11- (though he also said the style suited him). Kyle and I decided to do the W Ridge of E Huey (1200' gain, 5.9, much moss and lichen covered slab), which was fun in a way that an obscure route in the Pickets might be fun, but which I would not recommend to those looking for a quality rock climb. Kyle heading up one of the first "real" pitches on Huey at the top of a long gully system. Great views near the top of the gully on Huey. The best pitch on W Ridge of Huey? But only low 5th. Kyle on 5.6 moss slab... the real crux of the route. View of Lotus and Parrot Beak from Huey. Terrace in the foreground where DnA are climbing, with Proboscis in the back. Typical rap anchor on Huey. We also slung some blocks in the gully to avoid water polished slab down climbing. We also had some partial days playing on the crags around basecamp. We all tried the Toilet Crack (11+ hand crack roof), D+A also tried the first few pitches of Riders on the Storm (just above camp, only 10+ to P3) and the Penguin (12- bolted boulder problem). After checking the weather we decided that hanging out for 3 days of rain made no sense and flew out early. The experience flying with Sean and Warren at Kluane Air was great and the hospitality shown at their lodge was amazing. We got back to Whitehorse a couple days early, changed our flights and climbed in Squamish for a day before driving home. Nice views with the changing weather from camp. A quick paddle with the stashed canoes at the cabin while waiting for Warren to fly through the storm clouds to get us. Scenic views from the flight out. Open bivy outside Whitehorse before a 5am flight... this was a bad decision because mosquitoes. Duh. Devils Thumb massif from the flight to Vancouver? Lots of gear still. Damon with some of the bags. Kyle cranking out Angels Crest on practically no sleep after the mosquitoe bivy to 5am flight to bag shuffle and straight to Squallywood. Double Rainbow... Trout Creek somewhere just over the horizon... almost home. Gear Notes: Standard rack listed elsewhere. We used a single and a tag and liked it. A bug net to hang from the boulder at camp was clutch. Rain jacket, personal bug net, good food and entertainment. Approach Notes: Car, plane, car, plane, hike... expect 2.5 days if everything goes perfectly, count on 3+.

Trip: Chilliwack Range - Redoubt Creek to Mt Redoubt, Alpine Wedding, Perry Creek deproach Trip Date: 06/21/2024 Trip Report: Climbers: Jake and Julia Johnson – Sandpoint, ID Emilio Taiveaho - Saxapahaw, NC (Emilio’s wife Krysten could not join on this trip, but was very much with us in spirit) Adam and Monica Moline – Olympia, WA Summary: 9 Days and 8 nights in the Chilliwack Range with the primary objective of an alpine wedding. Weather kept us off most of our climbing objectives, which was a known risk by going in June. The approach, deproach, and riding out the storm proved to be an excellent adventure by themselves, and we were successful in our primary objective of getting married! I enjoy packing detail into these reports, primarily for my own benefit, while the detail is still fresh in my mind. Thus, it’s a lengthy report. But I also tried to make it photo heavy for readers that prefer to skip to the sections that interest them. Preface: Julia and I have been discussing our ideal wedding venue for a long time. After ruling out traditional options, we decided on an alpine elopement. Our first thought was to make a trip to the Cirque of the Unclimbables, in Canada’s Northwest Territories, but the timing and logistics for that trip weren’t lining up. We decided on the Chilliwack Range, for its beauty and remoteness, and the fact that it didn't require coordinating float planes to get to. The Depot Creek route from Canada was the obvious approach option for hauling in a suit, wedding dress, lots of camping luxuries, and a good bit more food than a normal trip. However, we had some last minute reservations about our wedding involving an illegal border crossing. After chatting with several friendly border patrol officers on the phone, we confirmed that there is no process or permissions to make the Depot Creek approach legal. They essentially told us that, although they would do their best not to catch us, they couldn’t guarantee it. Emilio, Adam, and I had climbed in the Chilliwacks in 2021, and accessed via the Perry Creek approach. However, the thought of doing the Perry Creek bushwack and climbing over the Ridge of Gendarmes with a wedding dress on my back wasn’t inspiring. We reached out to Ross Lake Resort to see if their water taxi would drop us at Silver Creek so that we could approach via that valley, but the lake levels were too low for them to take us there – the furthest they could get us was Little Beaver. I combed over reports for other approach options. Hiking all the way from Hannegan wasn’t appealing; we planned to bring heavy packs to live in alpine luxury for the week. While studying satellite imagery, I noticed that Redoubt Creek, the drainage west of Perry Creek, was relatively short and contained a wide creek bed – over 100 yds wide in places – which would be nice for keeping the dress out of the brush. Since it was a smaller drainage, I reasoned that the creek might be smaller too, and traveling directly up the creek bed could be a viable option. If so, there would only be a short distance to bushwack with the wedding dress before breaking into the wide section of the creek bed and the alpine. I could not find ANYTHING online about using Redoubt Creek as an approach for the Chilliwacks. When I reached out the national park for information about Redoubt Creek as an approach, they didn’t know what I was talking about, and they provided me with information about Depot Creek - I assume they thought I was just confused, and that I meant Depot Creek. The idea of venturing up a remote valley with little information was intriguing for us, and it seemed like it might work ok. After all, it couldn’t be any harder than Perry Creek, could it? Trip Map: (Spoiler - we ended up bailing to Perry Creek for the way out) Wednesday June 19 & Thursday June 20 Emilio had flown into Spokane on Wednesday the 19th and we had done some cragging. Then on Thursday we ran / climbed Harrison Peak in the Selkirks after I got done with work. Julia's parents drove from Illinois to Idaho to house and dog sit for us, so we had a full house Thursday night. Friday June 21 On Friday we packed up and departed Sandpoint mid-morning and met Adam and Monica at Ross Lake Trailhead at 3pm. The boat was late, so we snacked on Monica’s homemade sourdough bread on the dock and did some swimming. When the boat dropped us at Little Beaver, we ate dinner – Monica’s specialty sandwiches: a healthy serving of a variety of meats and cheese on a pretzel bun – then began the hike in. The first mile of Little Beaver the trail immediately gains 1000 ft, and I was still adjusting to the weight and balance of my new pack-body with the wedding dress hanging off the back. The delayed boat and the weight of our packs made it easy to justify a short first day on the trail, and we stopped at Perry Creek Camp for the night after ~4.5 trail miles. Saturday June 22 We all tried to take advantage of the pit toilet at Perry Camp before departing for the day. Julia and I also spent some time repacking the dress – the “cape” method we had tried on day 1 was meant to avoid getting wrinkles and creases in the dress, but it did not seem like it would work for the shwacking. We knocked out the remaining 5 miles of trail walking to Little Beaver’s Junction with Redoubt Creek, stopping for a few quick breaks that included some trailside bouldering. After searching a bit for a good route to start up on, we gave up and Adam led the schwack straight through some moderate alder and devils club on climber's right of the creek. After a few hundred yards, the slope steepened significantly, but the forest floor thinned and we followed some heavily used bear trails straight up the mountainside. The slope cliffed out a bit as Redoubt Creek plummeted through waterfalls to our left. We were able to find some gullies to navigate up these sections with only a few climbing moves. Emilio kept our spirits high by singing Marty Robbins' "You Gotta Climb" - a real mountain jam! Above the cliffy sections we made some great progress, again following steep bear trails straight up the steep mountain valley. The Redoubt Creek valley bottom levels out significantly after this, and the goal here was to get down into the creek bed and use that to rock hop our way up the remainder of the valley. However, based on the roar of the creek, we decided to continue up on the bear trail as far as it would take us. Eventually the old growth and bear trail wanted to force us to the right, straight up the mountainside and perpendicular to the direction we needed to go. We dropped down into a tributary creek bed and crossed it into some thick alder. We hacked our way through alder for 200 yards, angling down towards Redoubt Creek. This was the thickest, most sustained alder I had ever climbed through. I checked the gps map on my phone – we still had 300+ yards of this to go before the next section of old growth forest, and it felt like we had already been in it for an hour. We changed our angle, to head directly downhill through the alder to get to the creek, in hopes that we could find some relief in the creek bed. Once we got to it, there was a sheer 20 ft drop from the alder straight down to the raging river. So much for the creek being small! We briefly discussed options – the alder had somehow been getting thicker, and it felt like our slow progress through this grove was getting slower. We decided to backtrack to the tributary we had crossed before entering the grove. To add to our frustration, it began to rain softly on us. We used the tributary’s creek bed to head straight up the mountainside for a quarter mile until it met with some old growth above the alder grove, as a way to circumvent it. Looking south at Luna Peak's North Face: The old growth was incredibly steep with significant blow down, so we took a line angling around the alder grove, but right back down towards Redoubt Creek. A bit more bushwacking near the valley bottom, and we stumbled out onto a beach that provided a place to camp for the evening. In camp, we studied the map and tried to formulate a plan for the remainder of the valley. The creek was moving a lot more water than we had hoped, so crossing it would be very sketchy without log crossings. If we couldn’t cross the creek, it would force us up into the alder every 100 yards or so because of the way it snaked from side to side within the creek bed. The negative thoughts started to creep in a bit – Maybe this way wouldn’t go. Why did we pack so heavy? If this doesn’t go, would we need to celebrate our wedding down here in the alder? Sunday June 23 The upper valley was filled with fog, and the drizzle was on and off throughout the morning. We took our time to stretch, hydrate, and relax all morning until noon when the forecast showed a lower chance of rain. We needed a bit of a mental break before engaging in another fight with the alder. At noon we backtracked downstream a hundred yards so that we could cross the creek at a log crossing, then quickly regained that ground in the creek bed on that side of the creek. Another hundred yards and we were forced out of the creek bed by the creek, and we were back in the alder. Emilio had been developing a rating scale for “Technical Slide Alder” and this was at least “SA 4”, which is the point at which the alder decides which direction you get to go, and you have no say in the matter. After a few hundred yards, the alder spat us out right at a log crossing that got us to good creek bed on the other side of the creek – a lucky break. It was great walking for a few hundred yards, and we marveled at how wide the creek bed was here, with tall walls on either side leading straight up to dense alder at the top. After that bit of good walking, the creek wound back to our side of the bed and pressed right up against the steep wall on our side. To climb up the bank and around this pinch point looked to be about a 5.9+ climbing move with the packs, and then an “SA 5” bushwack for a long ways. The alternative was to traverse just above the raging creek on the steep and sandy bank. Julia and I backtracked down the creek looking for a log we may have missed, to cross over on; no luck. Emilio led the charge across the bank, kicking collapsing steps in the sand as he went. Adam and Monica followed, and finally - after a bit of deliberation - Julia and I reluctantly followed as well. We made it just a short bit further in the creek bed before the creek wound back and presented a similar challenge again. But this time, we had a better opportunity to escape the creek bed and dive into a short alder shwack, and then climb some steep old growth. We had eaten our fill of alder, and we couldn’t take much more of following the creek. We plotted a new line that would take us higher up the side of the valley in the trees, and then sidehill the remainder of the valley. The trees initially provided some relief from the density of the valley bottom. However, the slope quickly became very steep, to the point where I would frequently need to hold Julia’s feet into the soil in front of me to allow her to step up without slipping back down. Once we had climbed to an elevation that would be clear of most of the alder groves reaching up from the valley, we began side-hilling. This was also slow moving due to the steepness of the terrain, and needing to negotiate a good amount of blow down. The moving required confident footwork, and both hands. Whenever there was a space flat enough to stop and rest without rolling down the mountain, we took advantage of it. Light rain came and went, and the forest thickened – still very steep. As it got dark, we dropped down a steep alder-lined bank into a tributary that was filled with snow, but was also flanked by a sloping heather bench. I had never been so relieved to arrive at so poor of a campsite. Emilio pitched his tent above a small tree to avoid rolling down the hill, Adam and Monica spent some time landscaping with rocks to create a small flat-ish area, while Julia and I chose to use our axes to chop out a spot on the snow flat enough that we wouldn’t take the big ride in the night. We had to fight to keep our spirits up. In total, we had only covered maybe 2 miles as-the-crow-flies the entire day. It was starting to become a possibility, if we didn’t increase our pace, that we would need to turn around without ever getting into the alpine, and our entire trip would be bushwacking. Julia wasn’t open to that possibility – “I’m not going back down this valley”. We talked to the rest of the group, and all happily agreed that we would bail to Perry Creek as the deproach, assuming we could make it up and out of this valley. Monday June 24 We needed this day to be productive, and we were happy to find good weather when we woke up. The forest was kind, with reasonable old growth walking right away in the morning. We picked a line that aimed for the clear meadows at the head of the valley. After a short section of side-hilling, we dropped straight down towards the valley bottom and were greeted by a now-much-smaller Redoubt Creek and a bog. Mt Redoubt standing proud at the head of the Redoubt Creek valley We crossed the creek in sandals, then picked our way through the bog over to some talus on the west side of the valley. In just over an hour, we had covered as much ground as the entire previous day. Looking up at the unclimbed "Crazy Crushed Contours" wall on NW Mox Peak We topped off water before hopping on a snow finger that took us straight up head of the valley. Here, we found an abundance of wolverine tracks, and higher up in the cirque Monica spotted the creature itself, scampering through the talus! Some easy snow walking led us up the remainder of the way to Camp 7200. We had used one of the few good weather days of the trip to get here, but we all felt very accomplished to have completed such a complex and heinous approach. Tuesday June 25 The forecast said clear, and then rain for the remainder of the week, so we needed to make the most of it. We accidentally slept in a bit later than expected, then roped up for the glacier walking on the first section of the route up Redoubt. The walking was great for the first bit, but as sun baked the snow I began to fall through and it became a slog. We crossed the rock rib without issue and worked around to the south side of the mountain. Here the snow steepens, and it also deepened. I did my best to stay on top of the snow by getting my toe in solidly enough, then dropping my knee to distribute my weight across the surface of the snow. This technique was basically just crawling up the mountain, and our pace was as slow as you’d expect. As we neared the rock at the top of the snow, the snow got softer and deeper - over waist deep - and I was forced to change techniques again. I would use my axe and my knees to tunnel out the 2 feet of snow in front of me, then use my feet and crampons to compress this chopped snow into a step. Then repeat. The rest of the team practiced patience while I slowly engineered the route up the last 15 meters onto the rock. I was excited to get the crampons off my feet and scramble rock. We probably should have kept the crampons on and climbed the snow in the gully up to the summit block, but the rock did provided a reasonable route up, by traversing above the snow in the gully. We remained roped up as we had been on the snow, and we gave each other body belays through any short stiff sections. At the top of the gully, we found a good amount of snow below the final rock pitch. We decided to pitch it out one person at a time – another time-suck. The guys gave me the lead again, a wedding present for me. I crossed the snow by kicking steps with my trail running shoes, then traversed into the rock chimney leading to the summit. I placed a cam and pulled the slightly overhanging summit move. It felt stiffer than I expected, probably due to the wet trail runners. I slung a block to belay and brought everyone else up the pitch. Summit Success! There were a lot of moments over the previous days when I thought there was little chance of tagging any summits on this trip, so it felt good to stand on at least one. However, it was WAY later in the day than we had anticipated, and we still needed to get down, get beautiful, and get married. We made several rappels to get down. If we had anticipated the amount of snow on the route, we would have brought multiple ropes to speed this process up. Once we were back on the snow, we plunged heels into the deep slush snow and made great time following our tracks back to camp. It was evening when we got back to camp, and there was some anxiety and emotions regarding what we should do with our wedding ceremony. We felt like there was a reasonable chance of a small break in the weather over the next 2 days for us to do the ceremony, but that wasn’t a guarantee. We decided to get ready quickly and make it happen before dark. We boiled water in the jetboil and added it to the water filter reservoir to provide Julia with a hot shower. Adam adjusted some rocks to make a flat spot for the ceremony above camp, and Monica made a small bouquet from heather and a hair tie. I put on my suit, which Emilio had carried in his pack the whole way up, and I was pleased to find it in great condition. I set up some cameras and got myself and the guys in position. Then I closed my eyes and waited for my bride. Emilio kicked off the ceremony with some opening remarks. I opened my eyes and laid eyes on my alpine queen. She looked beautiful. We read our vows to each other and exchanged rings. It was perfect. The wind picked up towards the end of our ceremony and provided some dramatic effect for the few photos we were able to take before it got too dark. We celebrated with the best freeze dried and dehydrated meals we had brought with us, as well as freeze dried pudding for dessert! The wind continued to increase, and we turned in for the night. Wednesday June 26 & Thursday June 27 There was not any rain in the night, just steady wind blowing the storm closer. We scrambled around on the rocks around camp in the morning hours, and watched the mountains to the south disappear as the storm engulfed them. We knew there was little chance of tagging any summits over the next 2 days, but we made note of the boulders we wanted to work around camp, and other activities we might want to do during any upcoming breaks in the weather. We scampered into tents as it began to rain – it wouldn’t stop once for the next 40 hours. We had all reinforced the south sides of our tents, as that was the direction the storm blew in from. But at some point during Wednesday night the wind changed directions and completely flattened our tents, blowing strong from the north. We did our best to keep our things dry, but Adam and Monica ended up with a small indoor swimming pool. Every now and then I could hear some singing over the sound the rain and wind, coming from Emilio's tent: "♪ Rider's on the Storm ♪.... ♪ Rider's on the Storm ♪" On Thursday the rain changed to snow, which was a welcome relief from the wet of the rain. Friday June 28 Our boat out from Little Beaver was at 4pm on Saturday, so we hadn’t left much extra time to hike out. Friday morning started with a beautiful cloud inversion and some sunshine. By the time we started hiking towards Col of the Wild, the clouds had risen to our level and we were back inside the ping pong ball. On this hike, my right crampon broke – probably the consequence of using them too much with my trail runners. (I like using the strap style crampons with my trail runners on trips where there is any chance of hard multipitch climbing - which we had planned for, but were unable to do on this trip. I feel pretty confident in most snow conditions with this setup, and you can't beat clipping light weight trail runners to your harness while climbing in rock shoes. However, we've found that the bar on the Black Diamond Contact crampon is only good for 1 or 2 big trips before breaking when working them hard on such a flexible shoe.) I reasoned that the snow would be soft enough for the remainder of the trip that not having both crampons shouldn’t matter all too much. We kicked through moderately deep snow up to Col of the Wild; not anything like what we had encountered on Redoubt. From the col, we were able to see the first section of the Ridge of Gendarmes through the fog. What is 3rd and 4th class in the summer was covered in some deep and steep looking snow, with cornices guarding some sections at the top. We picked a line that climbed straight up the snow, then traversed right to the low point in the first ridge. Adam had carried a picket in his pack this entire trip without any expectation of needing it, but we were happy to have it for this section. Emilio made his case for taking the lead on this pitch – he had two crampons compared to my one, he pointed out. I was greedy, and formulated some weak argument for why I should get it anyways. Emilio conceded and offered to belay. This was the steepest, iciest, and most dramatic mixed lead I had ever done, and I savored the unexpected adrenaline surge. The stability and varied depth of the snow required careful and delicate movement. What an awesome, unexpected challenge on our "hike out"! I took my time tunneling upwards through the deep snow and kicking good steps for the rest to follow with their packs. After about 10 meters I placed the picket and traversed rightward. Again, I spent a good amount of time tunneling out the snow and packing down a solid shelf for the others to follow on. I worked into some sections with exposed rock and chipped away ice to get to some handholds and solid gear placements. Eventually I was able to work upwards to a belay at the notch in the ridge. We ate up a lot of the morning getting everyone and their packs up this pitch, but Emilio began working the next pitch once he was up. This next pitch contains the only 5th class move on the ridge in summer conditions, and it is pretty straight forward. But we roped up for it because of the heavy packs and some snow on the ledges. Emilio led and Adam and Monica followed, simuling on the end of the first rope. Adam towed up a second rope that Julia and I then simuled up the end of. After this pitch, Julia and I remained roped together simuling on a short rope for a bit of added confidence as Julia led us the remainder of the way up to the top of the ridge. We encountered a few low 5th class moves to avoid snow and ice where the route would normally be. The other side of the Ridge of Gendarmes leading down to Perry Creek is less steep, but contained more snow, so we made 2 rappels to get down to the glacier. Prepping to rappel at the Ridge of Gendarmes. SE Mox in the back right of the frame. Once down on the glacier, we roped together and made quick progress down to the head of Perry Creek. It was getting dark in the valley bottom, but we pushed for another 30 minutes on the talus to shorten our hike out the next day. Without any good flat spots for camping nearby, and without feeling like pushing any further, we made do by adjusting some rocks in the talus. Saturday June 29 We were up with the sun and hopping down the talus of upper Perry Creek early in the morning. We cut into the old growth and made good time despite less than perfect route finding. Julia and Monica joked at our previous fear of Perry Creek – this was nothing compared to Redoubt Creek. However, the bugs were thick and the Perry Creek descent saves the best for last - Thick dead pines and steep terrain on the final drop down into Little Beaver. We did find a faint climbers trail that was definitely not there in 2021, but we found it only as we were coming out of the thickest part of the schwack, so it didn't benefit us much. I had kept my hard shell jacket on to protect me during the plunge down the thick stuff, so I was overheating when we landed on the Little Beaver trail. We topped off our water and enjoyed a well-earned rest. The 4.5 miles of trail back to Ross Lake felt like they took forever, but perspective is a beautiful thing, and we did not take for granted how easy covering the ground was, compared to the week we had. We had an hour to spare before the boat picked us up, so we swam and basked in the sun at Ross Lake. The boat ride back to Ross Dam is always satisfying after a week in the mountains. We hiked up the trail to the cars in our sandals, loaded into the cars, and drove to Marblemount where we proceeded to order an absurd amount of food. We enjoyed the next 2 nights at an AirBnb that Julia and I had reserved for the group. There, we continued to make and consume an outrageous amount of food. Final Thoughts I need to express my gratitude to the team that made this adventure what it was. First and foremost, my new wife, Julia. I would have agreed to any wedding venue she wanted – for her to choose this place says a lot about who she is. I’m incredibly lucky. This was Monica’s first real trip into the Cascades backcountry, despite many years of climbing in Washington. She crushed it, and I’m sure it won’t be long until she’s back for more. Adam and Emilio have been my primary climbing partners for a long time, and they came through for me at my wedding, carrying heavy packs (70+ lbs) and keeping the stoke high throughout. They only took 1 full day of rest after this trip before heading back to Ross Lake, and hiking into the Pickets. That should say plenty about how hardcore they are. As I write this, they’re getting on Mongo Ridge with a great weather forecast to get some redemption from our attempt in poor weather in 2022. Update - they sent! Up next, Jules and I are heading to Alaska to do some honeymoon climbing (again – her idea, I’m lucky), but also some fishing and relaxing. Gear Notes: Standard Wedding Rack Approach Notes: SA5 Schwacking

On April 13th Koby Y and I climbed what we believe is a first ascent on the far-left side of the Black Spider. We humbly submit this report for the historical record and for review by the fine netizens of cascadeclimbers. If you know of this line being climbed before, please let me know and I'll PRINT this trip report and then EAT IT (and appropriately redact our claims here). This route is labeled "waterfall" on the hand-drawn topo, left of the "waterfall" that later became the Fric-Amos route: Here's the route from the side, photo taken from the base of Cooper Spur in December (side note: despite looking fat in this photo, Fric-Amos was 100% unprotectable snice): This is a bit of a "lite"/"diet" Black Spider route, not tackling the entire face but rather topping out onto the Newton Clark Headwall about halfway up. Despite this, we did about as much technical climbing as on the neighboring Fric-Amos route and found it surprisingly engaging. It's a bit tough to grade as the ice was quite thin but we'd say it goes around WI4 with a couple M3-4 moves thrown in. I assume that like other routes on the Spider it could become easier and perhaps go entirely at WI3 in fatter conditions. On to some photos of the climb. Here is the face from below with the Arachnophobia second cliff band looking quite fat for April. Our route (which you can't really see as it's tucked in the corner) above the arrow: Next photo, approaching the route. There's currently a LOT of snow over there so the first steep bit visible in the side view above was totally buried. We just walked up into the little snowfield though there were a couple patches of low-angle water ice. Koby coming up into the snowfield: At the top of the snowfield we built an anchor and pitched out the rest of the climb. Here's looking down after the initial steep bit (WI4-ish?) of pitch 1: A couple photos from higher on pitch 1 below. Somewhat tricky climbing up a series of brief vertical steps with some thin/snicey/delaminating sections: I only led about 25 meters before building an anchor, as there was a patch of fat blue ice, a decent pin placement, and I guess I had already used all but one of my screws, sewing it up out of fear in my typical style. Here's Koby leading out above the anchor, about to do perhaps the hardest move on the route involving a brief torque in a horizontal crack to reach the good ice up above: Above this was mostly mellower, typical Mt Hood WI3-ish: Pitch 2 ended up being about 35 meters before joining the Newton Clark Headwall. In reality, we may have been able to squeeze all of our serious climbing into 1 60m pitch, though in more typical conditions (less snow) it looks like gaining the snowfield could require a bit of ice climbing, so it seems reasonable to expect to do at least 2 pitches. We simuled up the rest of the headwall, climbing one last short bit of WI2 between two gendarmes to join the upper Wy'East route to the summit: A couple final notes: First, thanks to Zach and Artem for trying to get this done with me the week prior. The wallowing was, unfortunately, insurmountable: Second, we did have one scary rockfall encounter that I feel obligated to mention. While belaying Koby on our second pitch, shortly after he topped out, a microwave-sized block spontaneously detached in the bowl above me and narrowly missed my head (I ducked), instead hitting my pack and ripping out the picket I had racked in the side pocket. A good reminder that climbing on the Spider sucks and to put the belays in more sheltered spots. This is really my fault for putting the anchor right in the fall line, I thought that we were much closer to the top of the route than we were in reality and that there wasn't that much overhead hazard. Thankful to emerge unscathed. Picture of the rock below: Thanks for reading.

Trip: Banks Lake - Spice Rack M10+ (a Salt and Pepper direct start) Trip Date: 02/17/2025 Trip Report: This line struck me the first time I visited banks. By no means an original thought, every mixed climbing pervert who ever drove by also looked at it and felt their pants tighten. How we got so lucky came down to three factors: great weather, getting passed over on a trip to the Rockies (I’m over it now), and JJ’s advertisement of his OnlyFans during a UIAA comp- resulting in a season ban. Looking for a cathartic substitute we pivoted to suffering upward. For the uninitiated, Salt and Pepper is the existing WI5 line conventionally approached via a short 5th class traverse from the left. This direct start provides two amazing mixed pitches and 15-25m of bonus ice depending on the main dagger's condition. Weekend 1: @ColonelCrag aka Christian Junkar, and JJ, aka Jedrzej Jablonski began this attempt’s reconnaissance in early Feb, aiding the start of pitch 1 to assess feasibility, then rap bolting an intermediate anchor at the dagger, along with a few permadraws in the roof. I joined for a caffeine induced day trip from Seattle, attempting to lead from the bottom. Several whips and rock releases later, the drill came up pitch 1. With dwindling sun, the p1 highpoint was fixed with an orange rope. Salt and Pepper’s main dagger was the biggest we’ve ever seen, adding 25m of ice climbing to the standard route. Weekend 2, Day 1: (More Development) Government Worker's Weekend (previously known as Presidents’) provided an ideal weather window with a cold snap in the single digits followed by several days of stabilizing temps. As expected, the dagger snapped. Left, right and middle towards the wall cleaved off, leaving just the optimal contact area at the wall and a thin curtain with a shower in the middle. Maybe 10m of bonus ice disappeared, forcing the line to continue further up the p2 rock roof, gaining the ice with several overhanging moves. The fixed orange rope had been buried by the breaking dagger, with perhaps 15m of it claimed by fallen ice. The visible rope was cut, leaving the buried rope to be fished out from the fall’s pool in summertime. We continued the development with Tom bolting bottom up and leading some sections, JJ bolting top-down, we met at the p1 anchor… dodging icefall from the roof releasing throughout the day. Typing this a week later, I still feel my back from top-stepping aiders while bolting overhead in the p1 roof. Meanwhile, Christian was rewarded for his patient belay with a micro-trax solo of the first two pitches on a fixed line and cleaned as much as possible with the given daylight. Day 2: (Send day) We slept in and began around noon. Christian led pitch 1 and easily danced up the pitch while tossing loose rocks over his shoulder. Having recently competed in finals at the Ouray Mixed Comp, his base strength and finesse made it look much easier than reality. JJ followed, while clipping a second single rope for me as the third, allowing us to “siege” or “caterpillar” the line. We opted for two single ropes as opposed to twins, for the ease of manipulation in the p2 roof. In retrospect, either method would work fine- though a twin rope might have too much give if you fell while following in the p2 roof to get back on. The pitch 1 dagger and subsequent traverse remain exposed to falling rock and ice and act as a decisive hazard crux following the technical crux. At the p1 anchor, we hauled a pig via tag line on the last climber. (The pig rested on the far right side of the anchor ledge, waiting to be tagged up to the p2 anchor belay cave. This pig contained water, snax, and normal boots and pons for JJ and CJ, who opted to wear comp boots for p1 and p2. I opted to wear normal boots and my standard 1100g development pons, and was not prepared for the resultant level of suffering.) JJ boldly led out p2, with delicate feet and only minor grunting in the power crux (a full stretch stein to v-notch). Leading the final 15m of ice in comp boots and no secondaries must have been terrible, considering the ice required heavy cleaning. JJ might have placed a single screw in the ice, then levitated to the belay cave on the right side. Once we gathered at p2 anchor, the pig joined us, only getting caught briefly on the dagger. With happy feet we finished the ice pitches about 4:30pm, the only snag being a brutal 3-man rope pull from the ground. The intermediate anchor needs improvement as noted elsewhere. Beers and ice cream followed, celebrating both the send and our luck. Route P1 M8+ 30m 8 bolts, 2-3 screws, 2 knife blades, .2-.4; belay from a bolt and ice screws on the ledge to the left of the first bolt. 10’ of choss gives way to better rock and generous bolts, then gains the left side of the dagger to the shelf, going right to one more bolt and connecting ice blobs to the upper shelf. Stubbies or knifeblades would be helpful in the upper ice. Bolted belay ledge includes a rap ring for bail. A single 60m can rap to the ledge, walking / downclimbing the rest of the way. P2 M10+ 30m 4 screws, 10 bolts, 7 permadraws… so bring 2 draws for hangers without permas, and draws for screws. We placed 2 screws and used 2 at the anchor. Climb rock for a move or two up towards the first bolt until you can step onto the dagger left. Traverse daggers for a couple of moves (screw optional) and then enter the roof following bolts leading to the upper dagger. Recommended to go left on the dagger and then back right to belay in a cave on the right of the main flow. This route could be aided after the starting dagger. P3 wi5 main flow P4 10m wi4 3min walk to the back of your lazy susan where the forgotten spices and flours remain untouched. Rap: V-thread from the top of P4. Bolted anchor on top of p3 to the right side. Double 60 to intermediate rap chains (located where p2 gains ice on the right side of the flow. This anchor needs fixing… the 6mm chain was too short and makes for high friction pull (3 men, 1 rope). Second ascent party should add quick links compatible with 6mm chain and rap rings. From here, a double 60m rap easily touches down. Gear Notes: Screws, KBs, .2-.4, draws, double 60m. Approach Notes: Start at the back of the cave, expect ice/rock shedding until at the start.

Trip: Jack Mountain - Nohokomeen Headwall Trip Date: 01/26/2025 Trip Report: Jack Mountain via Nohokomeen Jan 25-26, 2025 Eric and Ryan 25 miles hike/ski, 8 miles biking 80/100 Winter Bulgers On the summit Jack Mountain is a 9,000ft peak in the cascades and one of the Bulgers peaks, so it’s on my list for a winter climb. The two most common routes on the mountain are the south face and the north face nohokomeen headwall. The south face is a class 3/4 rock scramble that is generally climbed in summer or early fall when it is snow free. The Nohokomeen Headwall is generally climbed in spring when it is a steep snow climb. The route As far as I’d researched Jack had previously been first climbed in winter by Anderson and Wald on Jan 4, 1981 via Nohokomeen. I’d previously climbed the Nohokomeen Headwall route in early June 2018. At that time it was a pure snow climb, and there were problems crossing a bergschrund which usually shuts down the route in summer. While boating back from Easy Mox and Redoubt on Ross Lake the previous weekend I got a good view of the Nohokomeen headwall and it looked like there might just barely be enough snow on it to provide a smooth route to the summit. That route is very steep so requires stable snow, which luckily has been the case in WA for most of the month. Ryan and I decided to go for it before the stable snow window shut. The route involves bushwhacking up May Creek to access the glacier. There are a few options to get to May Creek. The first would be to boat up Ross Lake, and I have a zodiac boat that would work for this purpose. (Note: The Ross Lake Resort water taxi does not run in winter). Biking up highway 20 The other option is to bike or snowmobile 4 miles down highway 20 from milepost 134 closure to the east bank trailhead, then hike or ski from there along the east bank trail to May Creek. Both approaches start from the Ross Dam trailhead. Since I had just been there the previous weekend, I knew highway 20 was snow free, and the east bank trail would also be snow free. Based on my June ascent I estimated 3.5 hours to get to May Creek via biking the road and hiking. Boating would take about the same amount of time, since it takes a few hours to triple carry and drag the zodiac to Ross Lake, and an hour to boat to May Creek. Mostly open forest I had just finished a big boating trip for Easy Mox and Redoubt, so decided to mix things up a bit and instead do the bike approach. We would do an overnight trip camping up on the Nohokomeen glacier since that would give amazing views across Ross Lake. We planned to ski since that would increase fun and the snow on the north aspects would likely be skiable, based on my experience in the adjacent west north zone a few days earlier. Friday night we slept at the Ross Dam trailhead and we were moving by 4:30am Saturday. I estimated that timing would get us to camp in the daylight so we could enjoy the sunset view over the Pickets and Ross Lake. First view of Jack The road was frosty as expected, so we brought mountain bikes for improved traction. The first mile was slightly up hill, but the remaining 3 miles were down and went by quickly. It was very chilly biking in the predawn cold and I wore mittens and my down jacket. After half an hour we reached the East Bank trailhead and locked up our bikes. We hiked up the bare trail in hiking boots and trail runners, and were only slowed down occasionally by a few blowdowns. By 8am we reached May Creek, just after sunrise. I recalled the forest was generally nice and open in 2018, and that was luckily still the case this time. We followed my previous route up to a gap in the cliff band around 4,000ft. There we made a short but steep scramble and found a rap anchor around a tree above. It appeared we were on the standard route. Skinning up the glacier Just above the cliffs the snow started, so we ditched our approach shoes and switched to ski boots and crampons. Around 4500ft the snow finally got deep enough that we could put the skis and skins on. At 5000ft we crested the ridge and got our first good views of the summit. The lower glacier was very icy and cracked up on the right side, and the headwall looked thin, with lots of rocks poking out. But there appeared to be a viable snow route up, as I’d seen the previous weekend. We generally traversed around 5000ft east to May Creek, then skinned up aiming for the left side of the glacier. The cold temperatures and a few wind squalls made us consider sleeping in the trees, but the view would be so much better up on the glacier that we continued with the plan. Sunset views We took turns breaking trail up, and passed through an interesting half-pipe feature before reaching the glacier. There we roped up, and continued up. The left side looked very steep, so we angled more towards the middle of the glacier. Unfortunately up higher we got partially blocked by crevasses, but we found a way through and made it to a nice flat campsite at 7800ft by 4:30pm, right on schedule. The sunset was amazing, and I set up a timelapse with my gopro360 camera as we set up the mega mid tent. The headwall We got to sleep early, and decided to sleep in a bit to climb in the daylight. The forecast lows were in the single digits, and that sounded really cold to be climbing in the dark. But hopefully it would warm up once the sun rose. Sunday morning we left camp at 7:15am and skinned up to the headwall. Unlike in June 2018, when the face was mostly snow, this time there was a cliff band near the bottom that spanned nearly the entire face. There was luckily one narrow snow/ice finger crossing the cliff band, located directly beneath the summit. So we aimed for that. The final push to the summit Just before the wall got steep we ditched skis and switched to crampons. I led the way up with a solid rack of four pickets, cams, nuts, hexes, and screws. One way or another I was determined to find pro on the climb. We each climbed with one technical tool and one straight shafted tool for plunging. I made it through the narrow icy gap in the cliff band, then in general climbed up and right. I made a huge traverse right until just below the low point in the ridge, then climbed directly up to the ridge. In general there were enough rock outcrops that I could get rock gear in between us most of the way, with occasional picket placements. After 3 hours I topped out on the ridge and ran out of gear. So I found a flat area out of the wind and belayed Ryan up on an ice ax anchor. By then we were in the sun, out of the wind, and the weather felt pleasant. Ryan took over and led one last simul pitch up to the summit by 10:45am. Summit panorama We had great views north to Ross Lake, and I could pick out Redoubt and Easy Mox in the distance, where I had been a week earlier. The south face was very snowy, and it looked like possibly-recent avalanches debris at the base. Inerestingly, there were mountain goat tracks on the SE ridge almost reaching the summit! I’d seen tracks near the summit of Easy Mox the previous weekend, and it’s amazing what the mountain goats can climb in winter. I don’t really know if they’d find any food up that high with all the snow though. Downclimbing the headwall We soon simulclimbed back down to the low point on the ridge. From there it made most sense to just downclimb the route, since our 60m rope would require many rappels and leaving lots of gear. I led the way simul downclimbing, placing the exact same gear as before. Skiing out By 12:30pm we were back at the base of the route, and made a quick ski back to camp. After packing up we skied back out, this time hugging the skiers right side of the glacier to avoid all the crevasses. The snow was wind affected and kind of tricky skiing up high, but lower we encountered some pockets of powder. The half pipe was very fun skiing. Back in the woods we transitioned to crampons around 4500ft, then rapped down the cliff and bushwhacked out to the trail by sunset. From there it was an easy hike back to the road, and we biked back to the trailhead by 9:30pm. Gear Notes: Skis, 60m rope, four pickets, rock rack to 2" Approach Notes: Bike to east bank TH, hike to May Creek, bushwhack up

Trip: Mount Garfield - Southwest Route Trip Date: 08/31/2024 Trip Report: "As has been reported elsewhere, Garfield is a hazardous enigma. It offers more than a climb, for it is also a physical and orienteering challenge. It is important to get a very early start. While a 12-hour r.t. is generally considered a minimum, only during the long days of summer will there be sufficient daylight for what is a long, steep climb, with some very exposed areas." -Fred Beckey, Cascade Alpine Guide I first read the section above in the 1990s when I was just getting into climbing and frankly was both attracted and scared by the photos and descriptions in the Beckey guide. An early trip report by @CascadeClimber and @philfort did little to dissuade my apprehension of this peak and so it sat for decades on the back burner. Always there, always taunting, even long after I probably had acquired enough chossdawgery skillz to make an ascent a reasonable goal. Turns out, two of my long-time climbing partners felt the same, and somehow it came to all of our attentions this year that Garfield could no longer be ignored. In the words of @Trent, "It must be climbed!" Secretly, I was hoping that @klenke was still correct and the the route was dumbed down by a bootpath and flagging. But I wasn't so lucky- he can rest easy on the golf course or the workfloor of the Lazy B, knowing that the brush has returned, the flagging rotted away, and that the blue collar masses have moved on (or died?). This peak is probably once again nearly as lonesome as it was when Fred first penned those words (the register went back to 1987 and traffic really has dropped off the past 10-15 years). I can honestly report that it is proper challenge for a Cascades Connoisseur such as those that frequent this esteemed site. (If you want hardman or hardwoman points, read no further and just photocopy the pages out of Brown Fred for your trip. If you're someone like me....read on) But we didn't know any of that when @therunningdog, @Trent and I rolled into the "gravel wash" that marks the start of this 4500' off trail adventure, late on a Friday night in Trent's old VW camper (nickname "Speedy"). There was another car camping there, but given the smoking and drinking we were pretty sure that they weren't heading to Garfield in the morning. Then again, I think a late evening of smoking and drinking would probably have been fitting preparation for the peak. Next time. Alarms were set for crazy early, I think about 430, since we had heard ample stories of unplanned bivies, thrashing exits in the dark, and general mini-epics. We were thinking 13-15 hours would be about what it would take and planned accordingly. But it turns out, us old dogs (combined team age of 158) can still beat Beckey and we were back to the van in about 11.5 hours, including breaks. The early start gave us extra time for beer and chips, so it wasn't all for naught. To be honest, the way up was mostly a blur. A dark gravel wash to an impassible set of falls started things. We went left into the forest when we should have gone right (be sure to keep that Beckey topo in your pocket and consult at all junctures!) and then I somehow thought that the real "dirt gully" below, wasn't the right dirt gully and kept going past it. Trent and Tim kindly put us back on the right track without too much wasted time The "dirt gully" wasn't that bad, but it wasn't that good either. You don't want to be on this mountain with more than about 4 people. 2-3 is about right so you can move as one team. Shortly after the gully you climb up and hit some slabs that force you left. We went all the way left then found a weakness to scramble up and right back towards the ridge crest which is below the "rock outcrop" and "razorback" that you hit right before the "tiny notch". You will be referring to the topo many times in this section, wondering where in the hell you are while looking way down into the "Great Canyon". It is a wild mountain. Soon enough you will come to the "glade saddle" where you will see a short gully leading to the "wooded ramp": which will take you to the brushy "key ledge" where you will be thankful for the brush for hiding the significant exposure. The brush will also distract you from the fatality that occurred in this spot, presumably due to the "trecherous footing" that Beckey describes: And then the meat of it, the "no. 1 Gully is reached, with the "no. 2 Gully" just beyond it: We had already chosen no. 1 Gully as our line, even though Fred describes it as the alternate path up, mostly due to a few of the more recent TRs we dug up which we compared to older no. 2 Gully TRs. I am sure that both have their pluses and minuses. The no. 1 Gully starts out easy, but then a step is encountered where @Trent ably put the rope up for Tim and I. It was a bit trickier than it looked with polished rock and moss. I sort of wanted to do a shoulder stand in the spirit of this peak, but unfortunately I was the last one up. So I grunted and lurched my way up. Then it was mostly easy 2nd and 3rd class scrambling until you had to turn right under the Leaning Spire to ascend slabs to a small col that dropped you halfway up the no. 2 gully. Here the way got harder with some slabby 4th mixed in with the slabby 3rd. We were in boots/approach shoes, which I think is the correct footwear for this route. The slabbyness isn't sustained or hard enough to warrant rock shoes. Plus rock shoes are definitely not blue collar! Style matters. Soon enough we were established in the no. 2 Gully and began to chug upwards to the "crux" chimneys. The first one we soloed: The next one, @Trent led, again. It was wet and involved a lot of grunting and pack dragging. Still, I think it is preferable to the variations that others have reported to the right. The notch between the Leaning Spire and the summit was easily reached after the chimneys, and here we went a bit too far left. You basically want to go straight up a cl. 3-4 slab above the col until you can burrow into a brush tunnel (complete with trimmed branches!) that will take you up and left to the summit ridge. A short walk right will land you on the true summit. If ever there was a peak where the summit was "halfway", Garfield is it! We dug out the register and marveled at who had signed in over the years. Some famous climbers in there and it was fun to take the trip back in time. The views weren't half bad either. It is a long way down to the Middle Fork and the van, less than two miles horizontally from the top. But, like most summits where the descent is worrisome, we didn't stay very long. The descent was also a blur, though it went faster than expected. Several bolted stations in the no. 2 gully greatly helped by keeping us out of the path of the inevitable rockfall. I think we did 6 30m raps total, about 3 in each gully. We paused on the "key ledge traverse" to oogle the Great Canyon in better light as we passed again: And also stopped to admire the Doorish part of the mountain as well. Anybody know that guy? I have to say that he's a legend, at least in my estimation. The routes he did, in the era that he did them, are truly astounding. He had a funny entry in the summit register talking about "a bit of an epic" he and Alex Cudkowicz had in June of 1988 where they ended up spending 2 unplanned bivies (in the rain!) establishing a route that they thought would go in a day. Yowza. Yeah, this should go in a day: But soon enough we were back at the easy slabs, scrambling down to the forest, the dirt gully, the forest, the gravel wash, the forest..... and then....BEER. Gear Notes: 60m twin rope, helmet, light rack to 2", leather gloves. Boots or approach shoes. Best to go after snow leaves the gullies Approach Notes: Middle Fork Road to gravel wash. Page 214 in Brown Fred has a great topo of the route/approach, which is all the experienced chossdawg needs.

Trip: South Hozomeen Mountain - SW Route Trip Date: 09/08/2024 Trip Report: On Saturday September 7th, me, Mike, and @thedylan drove up to Canada and then darn near back into the US to go for South Hozomeen. We camped at the Skagit River Campground in the provincial park. The next morning we woke up at 4:00, drove a couple of hundred meters (that's what they use up there) to the international boundary and parked near the gate, the NPS implied on their website that it was totally fine to walk across the border, not that anything less would have stopped us. We walked around the gate and into a different country. The couple of miles (that's what we use around here) of trail were immaculate, the NPS has done some maintenance, all too quickly though we plunged off the trail and into the brush and deadfall of the low elevation valley bottom. GPS proved essential through here, particularly at night, but even in the daytime coming out. We hit the creek bottom that drains the cirque between South and Southwest Hozomeen as soon as we could, if only just for navigational purposes. The brush was pretty bad but it really wasn't that long, pretty quickly the creek bed opened up and it was easy boulder and occasional slab walking. 3000' ish: There were a few easy scramble steps and ample water available in the creek bed up until 4100' where we encountered a waterfall and an impasse. We did a gorilla scramble just climbers right of the waterfall and made it through, although it was ugly. Above that more easy walking and boulders and occasional short scrambles until you hit the beautiful slab walking at around 5800’ I think. 200 or 300 ft below the 6900 ft saddle the slab walking turns into scrambling but it wasn't too bad on the way up, we tried to follow beta that we had but I think it's pretty much follow your nose. Gorilla Scramble (Reminds me of J-Berg): Slab City: At the saddle our entreaties finally failed and Mike called it a day, he had been not on form for the last hour or two, although we were still moving pretty quickly. If you're just not feeling it this is definitely not the peak to push it on, so he made the right call. I think he was exhausted from riding his bike to the farmers market Saturday morning. Me and Dylan descended from the saddle, contoured left and crossed through two minor rib notches, then up the rib to the ridge crest at about 7,600’. From there it's basically straight up to the summit which is where it looks like. The route finding was quite straightforward… if there's a notch go through it. Everything since 6900’ looked intimidating and you wonder “how the heck are we going to do that?”, then you just start moving and it falls into place; we both had the same image of Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade when he does the leap of faith and walks along the easy bridge. It was kind of like that… but the bridge is class 4 here. Leap of Faith: There was some tricky exposed scrambling on the ridge crest but stuff was solid when you needed it. We soloed the obvious 12’ crux step and finished the scramble to the summit. Over the last couple of hours the smoke had really filled in so we were very glad to be done going uphill, there was no view at all so we just turned around and headed down. It was thrilling to be done but only in a very muted way, knowing that we had to descend for it to count. Classic Ridge Scramble Shot: Crux: Worth it for the Views: On the descent to the 6900’ saddle there was a whole lot of “how the heck am I going to do this?” But you just have to start and it all falls into place. I liked this route because there's no dinking around, there's not really any point in route finding or thinking about gear or anything since that's not possible (there is basically no pro anywhere on this whole mountain above 6900’). There aren't any features to the rock, it's just pillowy and jumbled, pretty much any line is as good as the next. We confirmed that you only need a 30 m rope to do the crux rappel. We made it without incident back to the saddle, then descended 100-200’ where me and Mike decided to rappel, Dylan down climbed of course. We did a 100’ rap through the worst of the scrambling down to boulders and slabs. Approaching Mike's Nap Spot: After cruising down the slabs and part of the gully we made a stupid decision (possibly my fault). We traversed skiers right out of the gully, across two minor gullies to the forested slope. For some reason we thought this would be more efficient than down scrambling all of the steps and then figuring out how to rappel the gorilla scramble. This was not true. If I were to do it again I would definitely chance the gully and just figure out a rap. I've been climbing in the Cascades for 15+ years and this was the worst forest slope I've ever descended. I don't know how it's possible but this had everything that sucks, lots of sharp pokey downed logs, loose rock, deep loose dirt, then lower, brush, but still lots of loose rocks somehow! Wtf!? Even Dylan admitted that it sucked! Pokey Logs, (there was a lot of this): Anyway, eventually we swore our way down the slope and back to the trail then cruised back to the car in Canada. We were extremely thrilled to be done, but the no-see-ums made it impossible to relax with a beer. Me and Dylan washed off in the Skagit River (the lake is too far away), then we made the 2.5 hour drive home to Bellingham. I think if you could take the gully all the way back down to where it fades into the forest slope the descent could end up being okay, then this climb would be not too bad. The way we did it I will definitely never go back. @Albuquerque Fred has done this three times! What's with that guy!? This was certainly a very challenging peak, but I would say most of the overall difficulty is just getting to the high country, from the 6900’ saddle up it is one of the easier difficult 10 peaks, but overall it definitely deserves to be on the list! Gear Notes: 2x 30m rope (only 1 necessary for the crux), helmets, approach shoes. Approach Notes: Canada, US. Easy trail, then brush. I recommend hitting the gully ASAP and go up.

Trip: Inspiration Peak - South Face Trip Date: 07/14/2024 Trip Report: Me, @Albuquerque Fred and Mike climbed the south face of Inspiration Peak over two days July 13 and 14. We also walked up Glee on the way to camp since Inspiration in two days wasn't enough exercise for them. For beta we had @JasonG's TR: and @Steph_Abegg's beta, although I thought her suggestion to go past the base of the gash was crazy. We did so and it involved an insanely airy step across where the ramp disappears briefly just past the gash, then you climb up just to go back down to just above where you were before the airy step. I say go up the ramp to the gash, then go up, easy. This photo of Steph's was gold: The camp is melting out with about 5 good sites available and dry. We had excellent conditions on the glacier, easy navigating up a direct line, then a walk directly onto the approach buttress where we left the snow gear. A pitch, then simul traversing, up the ramp, up the gash, to the top. Easy route finding. We did like 12 or so raps with a tiny bit of down climbing right back to our snow gear. Many of the raps are tough. The big block to start the South Face raps has quick links going both directions, with additional stations below both ways. We went more westerly off the block but it was a hard steep traverse at the bottom of the rap to get to the next station. What have other people done here? The climbing was, I thought, great in the gash. A good, tough route to a tough peak. Crazily enough the mountain was getting tons of action this weekend. We talked to a group that did the east ridge the day before, another that did the south face, and then on the hike out another going for the east ridge on Monday. We were stupid and hiked out on the same day as the summit. Around 14 hours camp-summit-camp, 20 hours camp-summit-car. +2.5 home. Ew. In bed at 3:00 am with a 5:30 alarm for work. The trail: In camp: Fred finding the direct line through the glacier: Easy moat: On the summit, beautiful day: So happy to be on dirt again: Terror Basin conditions from Glee: Gear Notes: Single Rack to #2, 2 30m half ropes, crampons not really needed but used, rock shoes. Approach Notes: Grueling to camp, easy from there.

A friend and I did a four day traverse of Baranof Island last August--starting just south of Sitka at the Medvejie Fish Hatchery dock, and finishing the route on the east side of the island at Warm Springs four days later where we were picked up by float plane. Plenty of Brown Bears, bushwhacking, meadows, glaciers & icefields, alpine lakes, and spectacular ridge-walking. Pure joy.

Trip: Fortress and Helmet Butte - Standard Trip Date: 07/28/2024 Trip Report: I have fallen woefully behind on TRs this summer, not exactly sure what the deal is with that, but I am slowing trying to rectify things. In no particular order from the past few months, here is a short report on a trip I did with my brother @ZakG about a month ago to Helmet Butte and Fortress. Now that I am firmly in my mature mountaineer phase I am oh so slowly working my way through the Bulger list. I say slowly because I think I climbed my first Bulger (Cashmere?) in 1994 or so. I hope to be done before I die, but it might take another decade at the pace I am going. Anyways, I digress, first world problems. @ZakG arrived at Trinity on a beautiful Saturday to a half empty lot and no people milling about. A good sign and indicative of what we would see that weekend....which was nobody. I am not sure if I have hiked more than 20 miles on maintained trails, on a weekend, and not seen another party, but that was what we experienced. I hope this is going to be more common! A few miles up the Buck Creek trail we knew there would be a bridge out over the Chiwawa, but there is a good log that trail crews dropped across the creek Shortly thereafter we were treated to awe inspiring views of Buck's north face, yet another Bulger I haven't gotten to: This section of trail is burned for several miles and there were quite a few logs across the trail that we had to work around. Still, the combination of fireweed and snags made it scenic. After about 9 miles and some on the excellent Buck Creek trail, we veered north on a climber's path to Pass No Pass, which we reached in early afternoon. There was a flowing stream for water a few hundred vert below the pass and not another tent in sight anywhere. After dinner we went up Helmet Butte for the view and to take a look over at Fortress to pick out our route for the next day. The clouds were more stubborn than forecast, and there was smoke in the air from the Suiattle fires, but all of it added some drama to the skies and interest to the views. We couldn't see any tents down at Buck Creek Pass, nor any people. We awoke in a cloud the next day and opted to hang out in the tent for a bit to see if we could get some visibility. It didn't improve much, but we hadn't hiked all that way to not even try and so we slowly made our way up into the murk to see if we could get above it. And sure enough we did! Nothing quite like the feeling when you realize that you are going to have good views and the summit is within reach. See if you can spot @ZakG: @ZakG on the summit of Fortress with Clark behind: Looking toward Bonanza and Dark: Coming down: And then it was the usual, hurry down, pack up camp, slog out, swat flies in the heat, fish the beer out of the creek, eat some chips, change into glorious cotton, and merge into the masses on the highway heading back to town on a Sunday evening. And we wouldn't have it any other way. Gear Notes: Ice axe and crampons if there is snow, helmet. Approach Notes: Buck Creek trail from Trinity to climber's path to No Name Pass. Follow your nose from there to both Helmet Butte and Fortress

Trip: Mt. Fury - Wayne Wallace’s Mongo Ridge (Second Ascent of the Rooster Comb and new line on the Pole of Remoteness) Trip Date: 07/07/2024 Trip Report: Once in a Lifetime: Wayne Wallace’s Mongo Ridge (Second Ascent of the Rooster Comb and new line on the Pole of Remoteness). VI (26 Pitches, Steep Snow) 5.10a+ R. [not to dispute or change the current ED 1 5.9 rating, proposed by Sam Boyce. A note on the grade: 1. we encountered climbing harder than 5.10a on tower one--this could be avoided with better route-finding 2: Wayne gives a grade of 5.10 on tower three with the description of an "overhanging bulge" that matched our experience. We are in agreement that there are multiple ways of lowering the technical climbing difficulty, as Mongo Ridge is itself full of lines, and are quite honestly not concerned with the naming of difficulty or grade. The experience is full on, and the "hardest" pitches usually get low technical grades--5.4 Tower 3 traverse.] 65 hours on the route (30+ hours of climbing and three bivys), 6 rappels, 3 simul pitches, 1 big bag of Chad’s Backcountry Catfood. Adam “Mo” Moline & emilio Taiveaho Peláez Itinerary: Monday July 1st: Drive and boat-in, walk to Luna Camp Tuesday 2nd: Luna Camp up Access Creek Wednesday 3rd: Below Luna Col to ½ way up Tower One (travel low route, below Luna Ridge, summit Fury, descend; sleep at tower one bivy) Thursday 4th: Tower One, Tower Two, Tower Three; sleep at tower three bivy Friday 5th: Summit of Tower Three to False Fury Bivy (climb Tower 4, Rooster Comb, Pole of Remoteness) Saturday 6th: False Fury to True Summit of Fury, traverse back through East Fury and back to Luna Ridge Bivy Sunday 7th: Luna Ridge down Access Creek and hike back down Big Beaver to HWY 20 Concise Version: A celebration of Wayne Wallace’s achievement on soloing the mythic Mongo Ridge. A rare opportunity and ideal weather window, following the wake of a week spent in the Chilliwack range for the wedding of a lifetime. Adventure, friendship, gratitude, the closing of a four year project, renewed vigor and commitment to wildness and to the power of cooperation and trust. Our line up The Pole of Remoteness (“Once in a Lifetime” 2 Pitches, 5.9R) is accessed by climbing the Rooster Comb and rapping climber’s left of the formation, then following an upward gulley to an opening near the base of the Pole before traversing onto the ramps comprising its south facing aspect (see P.24-25 for additional details/beta). Thank you to Wayne Wallace for the line. The boldness and grit of onsight free soloing Mongo Ridge, only rope soloing the hard climbing of tower three, is astonishing. Words fail in capturing the admiration we feel in imagining being on the ridge without beta, committing to each challenge--each tower, each pitch, each move--without certainty of outcome. As we mention in the trip report, our effort is but an echo of that awesome event in 2006; thank you to Jeff and Priti Wright for their second ascent and trip report (this trip report motivated us to attempt Mongo for the first time in 2022, and we’ve poured over it for years); thank you to Lani Chapko and Sam Boyce for the third ascent beta–including the idea to luxuriate on Tower Three, the “sick bivy” was indeed the sickest bivy of my life–and thank you to them for their second ascent on the Pole of Remoteness, for cleaning our rap tat during their climb (and a cam I think?); thank you especially to Jake Johnson, secret hero of this trip report, who selflessly gave us gear, helped us think through the logistics, and who climbed with us in spirit, hoggin’ all the leads with his enviable trad dad style even when he wasn’t there, we were redpointing Tower One because of him; thank you, too, to Cedar Wright for the nice gear and rain jacket that I’ve been living out of in the backcountry, sleeping on top of ropes in the open air but feeling like I got a tarp on; thank you to our families for the continued support and love and openness to allow us to pursue this lunatic dream; and mostly thank you to the Picket Range, for providing us passage, for testing us, humbling us, and endlessly teaching us. The Picket Range is the heart, to have the privilege to be there, in such a special and sacred place, among clouds and glaciers, is not something we take for granted. Preamble: Last year, Adam and I Sharpened the Saw on the Sawtooth Ridge of the Olympics. This was a climb with injuries, consequences, and many lessons, as it took us out for a big part of the summer. Facing the existential questions of: “why climb?” “Are the risks and objective hazards involved in alpine ascents worth it?” ushered in a renewed commitment to the craft, and a year of blue collar trad work for me. We had tested our systems and crossed true choss, we knew what we had to do to make sure we’d be ready for Mongo Ridge. My home is parked in rural North Carolina, so I spent the year putting time on moderates across the Southeast, honing rock skills and getting humbled. Mo, living in Olympia, put time in climbing all over the state (and many long hours on the garage woodie), consistently pushing his grades higher and refining his style, polishing his rockcraft with the precision of a master potter. We trained in North Idaho with our partner Jake Johnson, seeking ice and snow adventure. In North Carolina, we climbed wet multipitch in the Linville Gorge and tried the strangest and most beautiful routes we could find (Zombie Woof at Moore’s Wall; the Open Book at the Linville Gorge), learning to fall on gear and getting as dialed into our trad systems as we could. Mo and I have been climbing together for half a decade, so it’s safe to say we’re a unit, and if anyone would be able to climb and live on Mongo Ridge and have a blast at the same time, it would be us–particularly given all we’ve gone through in the Cascades. We had a very strong shot at setting the SKT (Slowest Known Time) of the Ridge, and weren’t about to give up that opportunity. Taking a boat ride in, we stache some Mt. Fury Chardonnay, protein, and bone broth in a bag at Big Beaver, hoping to have a celebratory meal and toast next week, regardless of what happens, and hike in to the big commit. Pitch by Pitch: Given that we swapped leads back and forth, each section of the pitch by pitch report is written by the leader of the pitch. If the follower gives commentary, it will be noted in the description. Sections of commentary are written by both of us in collaboration. East Fury: After a long grinding slog up snow, scree, and heather to East Fury, we stache extraneous supplies on the summit and eat a big meal. A forecast showed the best Picket weather we’ve had in years. We decide to go with 2 packs to share the weight and haul more water, but as light as possible. Early afternoon deliberation about gear leaves us staching clothes, bivys, extra food, and a half-pound of dry-salami for our return journey. Everything non-essential including our tooth brushes and spoons got the cut. Soon the descent begins and each quick step down towards Goodell Creek pushes up deeper and deeper into our commitments and dreams. We stop twice for water, filling up our supplies below the “washboard” feature used to access the first tower. We drink as much as we can, knowing water is going to be a crux in the days ahead. Mo fills 5L, but I (Emilio) felt a little too intimidated by the climbing to carry the weight, so I brought with me 3L. With early season conditions still lingering, we are able to use a snow bridge and avoid the moat crux to gain the tower. By 4:30 P.M., we were on rock, here we go: Tower One: Emilio Pitch 1. 5.6 squeeze chimney. Grime and loose rock but fantastic moving. A devotee of the old school, I take “chimney” literally, rather than escaping right or left. The top is a narrow constriction that eats the body like a cam. Tight enough that I took off my pack and slung it behind me, pulling the pig up once I was out. Time to get birthed. From here, the search for a belay led me right and up, though I couldn’t identify Wayne’s original “5.8 overhang,” I got to a position that seemed to allow passage, had a good anchor, and brought Mo up who climbed the solid rock to the left of the chimney. Mo Pitch 2 5.10 (b/c?). After a long day which looked more like a wave-function going repeatedly up and down the snow and scree, vertical rock was a treat. Finally we only have to go up! The excitement of being on route, slight exhaustion, and a head focused on speed led me to punching up the first overhang I saw after the belay. Ironically trending up to try to avoid the 5.10 pitch the Wrights climbed, I found myself in 5.10 territory with overhangs on smeared feet. I climbed up and looked where I could bail left but found no escape from the increasingly steep pitch. Not being fresh on my choss dancing skills and feeling weighed down by the pack, I reached up for a hold with too little grace for the pickets and pulled a head-sized block down on top of me. I saw the earth spinning closer as I fell towards the chimney when Emilio miraculously catches me on my 2nd piece after a ~15 foot fall. I felt oddly calm and with only an elevated heart-rate and a small cut on my finger I realized my luck. After catching my breath and realizing the need for delicate climbing, but not wanting to go clean and down-climb that crux section, I repeat the moves trending up and slightly left on sustained 5.10 terrain until a decent belay. My father’s life advice, “Be smart about being stupid” rang in my ears for the rest of the trip as my attitude turned to patience without rushing the remainder of the ridge. While I had studied the beta the route, I underestimated Tower 1 given our previous ascent/descent (with sherpa Johnson hauling me up luxuriously last time). I am grateful for the easy and hard lessons that the Pickets teach and this seemed like a slap on the wrist. The next 2.5 days on the ridge gave me a renewed sense of mindful choss-dancing while communing with this stellar ridge. After this intro pitch, a sense of cragging in the sky on some of the best rock I’ve found in Washington left me elated and excited for the seemingly endless options of gendarmes on the road ahead. Emilio commentary: Say what Mo will say about this pitch, I firmly believe this was the crux of the route and the most difficult climbing we did by far. I was definitely at my edge in terms of the movement and commitment required for this pitch full of slopers and foot trickery. As the second pitch of the route, it was a sobering follow. During Mo’s fall, I remember my body reacting as if by instinct as I threw myself down the mountain to catch the steep fall without getting yanked up and potentially colliding with loose rock or compromising my anchor (a slung block requiring a downward, rather than sideward, direction of pull). Emilio Pitch 3. Wondery 5.6ish with wolverine climbing (trying to avoid moss and branches, sometimes grabbing branches, surprisingly bushwacky). At a great belay, Mo looks both triumphant and battle worn–on his first lead of the trip. His fall had certainly rattled us both, but we knew we had to continue pressing upward. Once we were back on route things would ease up. After all, we were redpointing Tower One, which had previously been very cruxy and time consuming, but at least we knew it, and had slept on it. On our previous attempt, I remember this tower being tricky to navigate until the fourth class ridge… this time around, we were again too far right to access the true ridge. From Mo’s belay, I started climbing up and left, looking for anything familiar. Mo Pitch 4: A shorter than necessary pitch traversing left through brush brought us to a view of the ridge and easier terrain. I was still shaking off the nerves after my fall, so I relied on my reliable climbing partner to help bring us to some version of a safe nook for the night. Emilio Pitch 5: Low 5th. More of the same movement, wolverine and brush dance. I kept pressing up and left, up and left, looking for a bivy spot for the night, until I found a nook that looked like it could accommodate two. I barely fit in the loving squeeze of two blocks, while Mo somehow balanced his sleeping pad between two young trees and slept as if suspended in air. Thursday morning we woke up at 5:30 a.m., lingering in our packs a little bit to appreciate the warm embrace of morning sun after a cold night. Emilio Pitch 6: Low fifth. Some sketchy tree moving and continuing to push up. Recognizing that Mo must still be at least a little rattled by his fall (the biggest I’d seen on trad prior to that point) I figured I should start the day on lead, given that I’d scoped out the route and was feeling strong and motivated to continue upwards, this would be a nice warm-up for the work ahead. Mo commentary: This was the only time we deviated from swinging leads equally. I was grateful for my top rope which properly warmed my bones and woke me back up. Mo Pitch 7: More rock than brush now, more of the same climbing and regaining confidence leading. Emilio Pitch 8: 4th/low fifth. Up and to the summit of Tower One. The most straightforward lead so far. Once at the familiar summit, we scope for the rap stations the previous parties have left behind. A small cluster on the climber's left of the formation leads us to the first single rope rap, which we gleefully ride in order to cross over to the base of tower 3. Tower 2. Fun!! Mo P.9 5.7 Some choss on ledges, but overall solid rock compared to what Tower 1 felt like. Trending up and right until a solid belay ledge before the traverse. Expecting choss made this tower feel like a solid block of granite. Moderate climbing with easy route finding was affirming. Emilio P.10 Blue Collar 5.8/5.9 emilio leads right and up in steady moving. This is the first lead where I really feel the hours of drilling trad moderates in North Carolina coming to my aid, as I encounter really enjoyable climbing on consistent rock. It certainly felt nice to be on rock with decent, if runout, protection after negotiating all the obstacles we had overcome to get here. From the summit of tower two, we use both our ropes to rap steeply to the base of tower 3. Tower 3. This felt like the crucible of the route. We knew it was supposed to be the technical crux of the trip. In his AAJ article, Wayne called Tower 3 5.10. On the other hand, both previous groups (Priti & Jeff; Lani & Sam), had only reported 5.9. Either way, we knew it was going to be old school and looked steep and intimidating. I had dreamt of that sight for two years now, remembering gaping at the massive tower during our first attempt in 2022. Mo P.11 5.4 R traverse skirting tower 3 turned out to be the most stressful climbing of the day for me. Few options for pro led to an intimidating lead and follow. Probably my longest (time) lead of the day, a delicate calculation and sideward dance on a solid quartz band led me to an amazing ledge at the base of the route. Emilio commentary: This sure was a fun and scary pitch to follow. Amazing ledges and solid moving, all covered with loose rock that wanted to eat the rope. There was some pro, but it was a pretty long traverse so rope management was crucial to pulling this pitch safely. Despite the low grade, this pitch was scarier than many others… thank you again to the sandbaggery of North Carolina, combined with a heady cocktail of previous trips to the Pickets and the Wind River of Wyoming, for preparing me for this moment. Emilio P.12. 5.9 corner. Being back on lead sure felt nice, especially with a feature as exquisite as the route ahead. Some of the best rock of the trip (and actually more than ample pro) made this section ecstatic for me… perhaps a little too much, since I kept punching up past the nice belay ledge and instead found myself at a very awkward hanging belay realizing I was going too far. Tricams inspired confidence as I realized I could have Mo rack up below before pumping up, making our next transition surprisingly effective despite my strange arachnid position on the rock. Mo Pitch 13 5.9 steep arete. The pitch that brought me completely back to my wits for the rest of the trip. Amazing holds on stellar rock left me in a ecstatic flow state as the arete continued to offer exactly the hand and foot holds I needed. I remember throwing a heel hook over thin air around the other side of the arete in order to avoid a loose block. Sometimes we would clean the route for future venturers, but most of the time we decided to leave the choss where it sleeps. Emilio commentary: Tower three kept delivering. Incredible rock on a steep follow. It felt as though Mongo acknowledged our love dedication and training, and was starting to grant us passage. Emilio P.14 overhanging bulge, 5.10a honest. I acknowledge that I am far more mountaineer and andinist than pure rock climber, but for the last four years I have been dedicating my time to honing the art of rock climbing and have done my best to make sure I am competent for Mongo. In retrospect, this pitch was to be the definitive moment for my experience on the ridge, as I was confronted with a committing and challenging sequence that demanded everything from me as a trad leader. I placed a finicky nut to move up a short slab ramp leading to an overhanging bulge on the steep prow. I went up and down, breathing and gathering my wits for the sequence. I remembered the advice Arno Ilger gives about commitment: once you decide to go, go for it and do not hesitate, trust the decision you have already made. Sloping hands and cryptic feet brought me up and I dug my fingernails into lichen filled crimps on really solid rock. My nut popped behind me so I pushed on until I could find a belay. I know other groups give this a 5.9, but this was harder than other routes I’ve done at the grade (a good point of comparison is the Keystone Route on Harrison Peak in North Idaho, a Randall Greene route that is my standard for the grade. Experientially, I would argue this pitch on Mongo was quite a bit harder and more committing than that route, but would not be offended if others think this pitch is simply really hard 5.9). Mo commentary: I’ve been in this position many times before. Watching Emilio working a crux from below and drilling the moves to gain confidence. On my follow, this felt like the hardest climbing we did and got me close to my limit. Bad feet up to lichen slopers and hidden crimps presented a 15 meter section of sustained hard climbing. Thank god for having an Emilio on the rack because this is where they shine. In the obscure, cryptic, and heady pitches that leave me questioning if it goes. With Emilio on the sharp end, it goes. Mo Pitch 15 I climb up and look at the steep committing vertical section above. After deliberating, we remember the beta of skirting to the right. I peek around the corner until an easy ledge continues to low 5th class climbing on solid rock for a long pitch ending between the bivy and summit. I could have done this kind of climbing all day long as I run out long sections to the top due to most of the rack being on the exposed ridge below and easy climbing ahead. I must say that we both sewed up the steep sections of the climb and the options for protection were plentiful. Some sections of the ridge obviously require run-outs, but we realized that we almost always had either great rock to climb or ample options for pro. We spent a vast majority of our time on route roped up with anchors or gear between us. This led to a sense of comfort and safety throughout our time on the ridge which facilitated the incredibly fun time we were having navigating the steep walls of this gorgeous ridge. Summit tower three. Best bivy ever. Truly thank you to Lani and Sam for recommending this sleeping spot. We took our time on tower three, fairly worked but psyched to have made it through. Like the poet says, bliss was it in that dawn to be alive, but to bivy on tower three is very heaven. We knew we were in for what felt like a rare jewel of a beautiful opportunity. It was around six thirty in the afternoon and we got to soak in the landscape, becoming enveloped in the aura of the Picket Range and thanking the universe for this rare and tremendous gift. I have had many incredible times (and incredibly trying times) in the Pickets, but nothing had prepared me for the delight of that evening. I reflected on all the storms we had weathered over the last half decade. Here, I was brought back to my first time in this wonderful place, when six years ago seeking the sobriety of raw truth found in the alpine I found myself on top of Whatcom peak, at sunset, with no way down for the night. That year, I tried to call a rescue helicopter out of the fear of being underprepared. I did not know in-Reaches existed, or didn’t care to have one, and of course rescue never came. Instead, led by by mentor and lifelong friend, Jake Johnson, we downclimbed our route, got off safely, melted snow, and continued to live for a week out in the North Cascades, hiking like holy fools after our life warping adventure. On tower three, all these years later, the preparation, love, and dedication to the place shine through me with ease, and I bow in gratitude for the experiences, for the possibility of good weather we were now experiencing, I bow in gratitude for the good company of my dear friend and brother Adam Moline and all the climbing partners who have ever trusted me behind a rope, I bow in gratitude that the wilderness is real and will never be exterminated, I bow in gratitude of all the positive, constructive, and ecologically responsible attitudes of the wild to be found in the American spirit. We eat salmon and share stoke, leaving some for Jake Johnson, who had gotten us here in the first place and who was up here with us in spirit and in our hearts. Before bed, we re-read Wayne’s original trip report and a poem from Dōgen. We sleep deep and rest well with milky way dreams and positivity. Thank you, universe. In the morning we wake well slept, and hop on our double rope rap from tower three to base of tower four. Back to the eternal now, the dance of going up and down these towers is becoming routine. At the low point in the ridge, we find a drip of snow and fill from the source. We stuff snow into our water containers that will melt against the heat of the body as we continue to lizard upward. We eat a little more breakfast and get back to work. It feels nice to be at this point in the ridge early in the morning, with the whole day ahead of us so we can take our time and attempt not to compromise on the integrity of the line–we knew, no matter what, this would be our last true full-on attempt to commit to Mongo, so it was our last shot to get it right. I have nothing but respect and admiration for all prior parties, all of whom covered a tremendous amount of ground in a short span of time; at the same time, I knew that in order to execute, as a strong team Mo and I would have to be able to take our time. As self-taught climbers, we have no experience in the greater ranges like the indomitable Priti and Jeff, are not high priests of the new-old school choss wizards like Wayne, and certainly are nowhere close to being professional climbing guides or instructors like Lani and Sam. Going slow, in this specific instance, seemed like a way to negotiate some of the risk involved in our undertaking and to make sure we set ourselves up to make smart decisions. The motto of our trip “Be Smart About Being Stupid” echoes through us. Damn did these values and priorities allow for us to have the time of our lives. Tower 4. Emilio Pitch 16. 5.9 traverse. An excellent start to the day, this pitch got us going with leftwards moving through nice holds on thought provoking but solid sequences. It was a little harder than I anticipated, but it was honest climbing and kept me motivated, nothing desperate. Not wanting to create too much rope drag, I belay at the end of the traverse so Mo can take a nice line and to avoid the rope creating rock fall. Mo Pitch 17 No pictures of this pitch but it was virtually choss-less rock going straight up the face with a nice corner and cracks to stem and jam when rests were needed. The rock continued to get more enjoyable to climb for the reminder of the route. Emilio P. 18 5.7. Climbing eases up a bit here, nice moving on quality rock up and to the top, still going up and up and up through a labyrinth of spires and sharp edges. From the summit, once again set up a double rope rap. Once more we found a drip of water to melt snow against our bodies and to drink from the source. Since we grew up Minnesotans, eating snow felt like a natural childhood snack on this warm summer day. These minute particulars–the snow, drip of water, the short rest, the extra bar–really made the trip enjoyable through great fortune on the conditions. There is no way to plan or to expect this, so we did not take the rare opportunity for granted. To continue climbing was ecstasy. We scoped out the fourth-class Rooster Comb bypass climbers right, but knew we were in the perfect spot and the perfect time (~11am) to seek the summit of this improbable and bizarre and absolutely wonderful formation. I thought of my own rooster back home in North Carolina, Charlie Parker, and once more was filled with gratitude for all the minute textures that underpin the fabric of life: how is it possible that such strange sculptures of stone exist? The gendarmes often appear far more striking than the peaks themselves. The vital mineral life and art of rock is on full display in this place, the Northern Pickets. The existence of the Rooster Comb renews my faith and commitment to poetry and art. Rooster Comb: Mo P.19 The most aesthetic line of the rooster comb is to climb as many pinnacles on the knife-edge arete. I head up the arete trying for several pieces enjoying solid blocks and good pro. While the images may deceive, this pitch had some of the most solid rock on the ridge and was my favorite climbing. I agree with Wayne’s ambiguous rating of “Gymnastic” once on the horizontal traverse, but this first 80-90 meters of climbing to gain the top was some of the best 5.7-5.9 climbing I’ve done. I give it a range because many route options presented themselves whether you want to be on the sharp end or a few feet to the right of the many pinnacles along the top of the ridge. I peeked around the corner to find that the Rooster Comb is cleaved in half with a perfectly vertical wall on the other side. I skirt around several blocks and push upward. Several easy chimneys provided a safe embrace above the exposed climbing. Emilio opts for arete and face climbing to avoid being squeezed by a chimney again. The route continued up and then right looking to gain the upper ridge on confidence-inspiring rock. As Emilio is warning me of running out of rope, I look up and see amazing rock leading to what could be a solid belay ledge up top. Knowing that I have solid protection below and an even more solid climber on the other end of my rope, I decide to continue past the sub-par belays to the ridge. At the top, I howl as I see a luxurious seat across from a massive horn to sling for my anchor and a clean line of sight towards the “Ancient Art” of Mongo Ridge. I belay Emilio up, recline into a comfortable seat, and take off my shoes to fully enjoy this island in the sky. Emilio commentary: I realize Mo is moving quicker at this point, scampering and performing some trapeze act I can no longer see in the skies ahead, running out the leads. I also realize he needs rope so the walkies help us talk: “how much more?” “10 meters maybe?” I knew Mo did not have enough rope, but also new it was going to be essential for us to have a decent belay ledge on the Rooster Comb if we hoped not to sever a rope through this gigantic saw. I radio’d back “take all the rope you need” and starting simuling towards the first placement, then towards the second, as Mo kept pressing on. Emilio P. 20 Gymnastic traverse with easy but intimidating boulder problem in the sky. Mo found a delightful island where he was able to kick off his rock shoes and lean back on a sturdy block for the belay of a lifetime. He would be able to see most of the next pitch, and communication would be decent. I was again grateful to have paid a pilgrimage to the strange desert towers of Utah, as this section somewhat resembled the last pitch of Ancient Art. It was straddle then walk a thin rock line in the sky with dropping edges all around you. Navigate blocks piled up in improbable perfect shapes. A v0ish boulder problem steeped in exposure led to a beached whale and lichen crawl. I do remember somewhere after that, there was a nice chicken wing that brought the familiar respite of using your own meatbody as a cam. Scoping out the last pillar, and mindful of the diagonal raps up ahead, I spotted Wayne’s tat. It was nestled in a confusing block, and I had a tough time determining the route he had taken. I did remember a key piece of beta: Priti and Jeff had written that Wayne avoided some of the unclimbed gendarmes by going left, where they went right. I interpreted this as meaning that Wayne’s “grassy gulley,” was accessed by rapping off climber’s left of the Rooster Comb, rather than climber's right. After belaying Mo up to my stance, I negotiated a double-rope rap going diagonal and left, using a horn as a redirection. It was a strange kind of sideways moving, and I used a couple of nuts (which eventually popped) to keep me hugging the wall until I arrived down at a kitty litter ledge. Mo made his way easily enough down and, through the grace of the mountain, our ropes got neither cut nor stuck on the sharp edges that guided our descent. Mo Pitch 21 When looking for a grassy gully to follow, one would obviously choose the one with 100s of feet of grass rather than the gully blockaided by snow. I start climbing by crossing a rock rib into the grassy gully on climber’s left. Staying mostly on the rock at the edges to avoid the choss littering the gully, the worst rope-drag of the trip began. Doing deep lunges up the gully while running out of rope led to another section of simuling the gully as Emilio begins following. I look for anything to build an anchor with to end this quad-pumping squat workout knowing that even with good protection a fall would be painful (thank god for all the pistol squat training in the home gym!). To avoid being pulled down the long gully, I set up an awkward anchor with an arched back and quickly belay Emilio to the top of the grassy gully with cramping arms. I see snow at the top and hope for an easy cross to access the gully leading to the Pole of Remoteness. Emilio P. 22 A lead with similar climbing, up and left past grassy gulley on rock. A far shorter pitch than Mo’s, but made sense with the belay ledges we were able to take advantage of. Adam commentary: Doubt set in when Emilio peeked down the other side of the gully and reported a long rappel to access steep climbing. Continuing up and left to avoid the chasm below, it felt like we were going in the wrong direction at first. With steep climbing to the right and what seemed like climbing the wrong gendarme to the left, I second guessed our route from below, beginning to suspect we climbed the wrong gully. Luckily, the doubt was extinguished by trusting my partner and the mountain by venturing into the unknown. We continued up looking for passage and the mountain would offer more than we would have ever asked for. Mo Pitch 23. Yet another determining pitch, a crucible. Emilio tells me to look for bail routes to the right seeking the snow gully up to the Pole. I traversed around 50 feet to the right and find easier rock leading up to a small ledge and patch of snow. At this point, we had access to the original snow gully down and right and we suspected to be at the south side of the Pole of Remoteness nestled in a col between its closest gendarme to the south. The distinct color of the rock made me think we made it to the Pole but unsure given our position. Could this be another gendarme? Despite an intimidating wall between us and the summit, the kitty-litter down scramble to the steep snow gully did not make the standard route seem like the obvious choice. An idea began forming that sticking to what we had felt the most confident on, the rock, may be the best choice. I decided to keep quiet about the ramp I could see up above until we deliberated together. Pole of Remoteness In our strange and isolated position, we recalled Wayne listening to the Talking Heads on his visionary downward solo journey and the song rang loud in our heads: “Letting the days go by (same as it ever was, same as it ever was)/ Once in a lifetime, let the water hold me down./Letting the days go by, water flowing underground”). We had kept repeating the line throughout the trip “Once in a lifetime” to acknowledge the difficulty of timing this climb, getting the right conditions, having the right physical preparation, so much had to line up for us to be able to make this happen, the song really felt right. We negotiated how we would get to Wayne’s “Grassy Gulley,” which by now we realized we were left of, and in current conditions, the gulley looked wet and icy and exposed and scary, and we were loving the rock. We thought we could see the summit of that elusive and by now mythical block, the Pole of Remoteness. I guess I don’t have to repeat the Pole’s conception and appellation, we all celebrate, love, and appreciate John Roper, pioneer of these ranges. I knew if I wouldn’t take the lead, Mo would, because dang it looks like it goes… and safer than the “grassy gulley” (I now understand what I already knew, that “grassy gulley” can mean different things. The way the Olympic Climbing guide calls some peaks in that range “4th class,” which in a way is true but… yeah it can feel really steep, and the line between fourth and fifth is mercurial. I’ll use this aside to say I do not think the standard summit to The Horn on Sawtooth is 4th class, haha). Adam commentary: At the belay ledge, I offer a minor suggestion that we stick to the rock hoping Emilio bites. Never disappointing or turning from an adventure, Emilio scopes out around the corner and with the equanimity of a sage, looked at me and said, “I’m gonna go for it”. I knew we just committed to an experience of a lifetime. Emilio Pitch 24 5.8 cerebral traverse and slabby head wall on dinner plates and spanning across air to find the south face ramps. A traverse walking over unevenly stacked dinner plates and positioning yourself on the lesser angle slab on the lower right side of the tower (which is usually hard to see because it’s obscured by yet another gendarme in front of it), places you on a ramp to the heavens. Compared to what we had already been through on the first and third towers, this was nowhere near as intimidating. Instead, this opportunity felt like a treasure I could not take for granted, for something like this is truly a rare flower and I certainly acknowledge that luck went into this well-prepared endeavor. I climbed trending up and left and then back right towards the ramp to steep prow-like moving, moving towards a no-hands rest ramp with decent pro leading to a large ledge beneath what was hopefully to be the final pitch. I will admit that the anchor I used was not SERENE, but at the moment, and seeing how possible the route ahead seemed (if, indeed, we were on the pole and not another mysterious gendarme which we had misidentified), it was certainly SEEN and appreciated. A literal big block of time. Climbing here was on very decent rock, and in some ways I was especially prepared for this section after onsighting horrific runouts out at Stone Mountain in North Carolina, where I had previously been 60ft runout on slab shaking my boots at 5.8. It was a gift to feel prepared, as though I had put in the necessary devotion and dedication to put myself in this lunatic situation, yet continue to feel a certain sense of grace and steady confidence. I thank the universe once more, for it used me as a flute to sing this song of moderate featured slab. At that moment it felt as if I had no control and all the control in the world, as if my climb had already happened. The Picket Range is wild and holy, the most powerful of teachers, and I have nothing but devotion to these peaks. Climbing this line and venturing onto this face unknown to human hands was not an act of conquest but rather of communion and of submission. Adam commentary: The rock on this pitch was on par with Tower 3 and the Pole of Remoteness in quality and enjoyment. Unique fractures and blocks improbably held together created easy moving up the south face of the Pole. Who knows if the lower pitches climb at this grade, but the upper pitches on the south side offered some of the best climbing on route. Future picketeers will have to evaluate if the lower pitches offer as enjoyable climbing as the upper pitches. The grassy gully bypass may involve a few more pitches of climbing on solid rock at the base of the pole from the south. Emilio initially said over the walkie, “It’s not the Pole” and my heart sank. Slightly dejected, I traverse around the corner and my mood quickly improves by the high-quality climbing. This momentary misunderstanding of Emilio’s words could not take away from the elation of our venturing into the unknown. Mo Pitch 25 5.9 As I reach the belay ledge, I realize that we are in fact on the pole, but just shy of the summit! Realizing the serendipitous potential we had to share a first ascent and to be set up just below the final steep section of climbing gave me overwhelming gratitude. I saw many routes that would go but my eye was drawn to the thick band of white rock directly up the middle. Steep and exposed climbing, high feet, and even a heel hook brought me up good rock with good pro. Climbing in a euphoric flow-state, I steadily climb with my undivided attention on each movement fully engrossed in each moment of time. I grabbed on to the summit blocks and released a long bellow from deep in my lungs. This was the defining lead of my life and I was grateful for the teachers who prepared me for this moment and my body for being ready to enjoy it without a drop of fear or doubt. Emilio commentary: I won’t deny, I quaked a bit on this one just because of everything, but I truly trusted Mo. When I heard his soulful yawp at the rap station, a certain sense of calmness washed over me, and I gave myself up to the rock with an attitude of devotion. Summit of Pole of Remoteness By far some of the most enjoyable moments of the trip, especially after all we had been through, after all the ground we had covered (from our early adventure up Redoubt Creek as a way of thickening the coat and sharpening our goat hooves against alder). At the summit, the realization that the sun was setting hit me. I was cold, dehydrated, worked, ecstatic, and more than anything, grateful, but we needed to find a place to sleep. My seriousness was somewhat underscored by Mo, who offered to lead the next two pitches since he knew I was worked and he thought we should push to False Fury. He was not about to take the lead from my back. Luckily, we were working as a team, and I was already having that thought. Now, at around 8:30 P.M. came the most unexpected of delights. False Fury Emilio P. 26: One long speed simul up false fury. After being fully ready to commit to onsighting 5.11 (near my absolute onsight grade), and having negotiated most of the ridge already, the return to fourth class was surreal. I did my best Dan Osman impression and ran up “False Fury” as though my life depended on it. I was especially grateful once more to Jake Johnson, for his donation for a pair of first gen (!!) TC Pro’s (basically boots) that made me feel confident as as I grabbed a rock to self arrest and kicked steps across the snow gulley to get to better rock on a right traverse from the base of the pole to the rock on false fury. Once at the top, I pulled the rope through an old-school hip belay as if my whole life depended on it, and did my best to haul Mo up the mountain, to our wind-protected bivy. At the summit, I reflect that I can’t imagine on-sighting Mongo Ridge with heavy pack, pitch after pitch. I especially can't imagine being there absolutely alone, no one on the other end of the rope. Wayne’s level of wizardry is astounding, and our effort here is but an echo of that awesome event in 2006. At the top, we set up our bivy on the summit of false fury, melting snow, laughing, crying, and trying to drink as much water as we can. Bouillon cubes bring a special kind of joy to the belly and the morale continues to be high despite Mo realizing his sleeping pad has gotten punctured. Mo commentary: As college cross country and track runners and general endurance athletes, I truly felt like we tapped into our decades of training for this beautiful last pitch. After following a steep moat along the left side of the gully to stay on rock, I see Emilio begin kicking steps to cross the snow gully in rock shoes without even a moment of hesitation with rock in hand for self-arrest. Once across, the rope begins hastening out of my hands and I know I’m in for some of my favorite movement. Speed climbing on moderate terrain. By the time the rope tightens on my waist I begin the tricky moat movement. Once across the snow, I remember running on all 4s up the rock without any ability to look at the route above. The rope would tighten if I stopped for even a moment to look up and I was not going to fall behind. I put my head down as I speed climb up hundreds of feet of amazing 4th class rock without ever looking more than a few feet ahead of me. We reach false fury from the base of the Pole after maybe 10-15 minutes as I’m gasping for air and I see a proud Emilio. “That felt personal”, I say, as Emilio gave us one last beautiful gift to close our our SKT of Mongo ridge with some of my favorite kind of moving, hauling ass. The morning brings snow and fourth class to the true summit of West Fury then eastward easy scrambling. We look through the summit register and find our entry from 2020, when we were the 25th group to sign the log. Looking through the thin pages, we see some of the names of Cascades legends… John Roper and Fay Pullen stick in the mind. To be in this company is a tremendous honor. I share a poem I have written with the summit of West Fury, as a kind of symbolic offering to the mountain. Grateful, humbled, and worked, we make our way back to East Fury, crossing the same ridge we did four years ago when we first stood on this peak. We sleep comfortably that night on a wide ledge on the “crux tower” of Luna ridge. Having a full extra day on our itinerary, we plan to spend that next day living on the ridge, maybe climbing Luna, and integrating the experience as we take our time going down Access creek. However, the universe had different plans and we woke up at 7 to wild-fire smoke. After brief panic that we would be trapped, a message from Monica confirmed we were safe and the fire was south. We decided to push out to avoid feeling sick in the smoke and had some adventures traversing the ridge to Luna col. We start our long descent floating down the mountain feeling like we were hardly touching the ground. We planned to push to big beaver for a treat of wine and salami. On the way to Big Beaver, we ran into a group of Picketeers coming out of what sounded like a gnarly and excellent traverse from Challenger down into Luna Cirque and back out. If y’all are reading this, we’d love to read your report and hear what happened to the injured climber… we felt very fortunate to have been integrated back into civilization by a group that knew what Mongo was, in our state of dazed elation to be in the presence of other climbers was a comforting feeling. We hope everything is alright and that your adventure was incredible! A last point of note on our return is that back at Big Beaver, someone had taken our wine and salami. Rather than luxuriate on the shore as we originally thought we would, we share the last bites of dry Chad’s Backcountry Catfood, change socks, don our packs, and get ready for the ongoing hike out, no boat for us today… What may have been upsetting to others felt like another offering to the mountains in order to have safe passage. We hope someone enjoyed these luxuries and we were happy to share because we had more than enough of what we needed. We sing along the trail as we enjoy our last fleeting hours in this place we call home. “On the road again, I just can’t wait to get on the road again. My favorite thing is climbing mountains with my friends, and I just can’t wait to be on the road again.” Gear Notes: Chad's Backcountry Catfood, homemade by Mo in Olympia, was the MVP of the climb. Approach Notes: Long

“Missed It” Wall 5.9 PG, 5 pitches, II, 6/22/24 Alex Pederson, Zack Williams, Spencer Moore What is the difference between a first ascent and a wildly preventable navigation error? Intentionality I suppose. Due to indifference and blasé attitudes towards where a route starts, what transformed our “off route” miscalculation into a full day of adventuring is a commitment to the joy of uncharted terrain. It seems as if this route is new, but in the style of the times I am going to spray about it on the internet and hope no one climbed this in the 70’s. I would hazard a redefinition of traditionalism in the 21st century is to keep the “fuck it we ball” attitude and check with the grey haired locals just to be sure. Hoping to capitalize the long days of the solstice, Alex Pederson, Zack Williams, and I decided to jaunt around the green creek circuit. Late Friday after a roofing gig in Acme, I rushed over to the trail head and ditched my tar stricken denim for soft shells. We bounced down to the river and crossed over the log bridge with what I must say is probably the best tensioned hand line I have ever encountered. Whoever did that, bravo. We chatted about old growth, scifi books, and climbing plans all the way through the second crossing and up to the river. It was a little past 9pm and we had taken just under two hours to get to the cairn that marked our final river crossing. We navigated upstream to a calmer section of the creek and waded knee high water to the other side. After a particularly fridged barefooted river crossing in Cody in January, snow melt rivers felt cute in comparison. I still yelped at the sensation of water that was probably snow 45 minutes earlier. Barfie toes are barfie toes after all. At camp we hunkered down for a leisurely wake up time of 4am, and drifted off to sleep after some celebratory beers cooled off in the creek. The forecast turned from rain on Sunday to rain on Saturday. We weren’t really sure if we could complete the circuit given the unpredictable weather, but we decided to see how far we could go until things didn’t make sense any more. We scrambled up the gully to the start of the Mythic Wall. There was a fair bit of snow at the base of the route, and we made a plan to start left and then traverse right into the route after avoiding the worst of the wetness. I opted to take the first lead by tying in and stealing the rack from Alex’s pack while throwing him a bight of rope. Even though you could probably hang one-handed on the grippy dunnite even if coated in Vaseline, something about wet rock triggers the instinct to go somewhere else. To put it succinctly, I went too far left; Like way to far left. I went so far left that I was closer to the Green Creek Arête than the Mythic Wall. Whoops. When Alex and Zack met me at the belay, they raised their eyebrows in disbelief at my route-finding choices and handed me the two cams back that I had placed in a full 65m pitch of low fifth. I was basically told to “try again” and just go as right as possible and see where we ended up. After 10 or so meters of traversing I met a flake and finger crack that led to a ledge just big enough to mantle onto. Pounding each hold with my fist, I ripped out what choss I could and plugged a small nut and a black totem into the wall and sacked up for the moves. Some finger locks, a layback series, and a heel hook mantle proved to be the physical crux of the route. As I followed a hand and fist crack to the right, I gardened blocks and flakes from sections of the wall by either ripping it out or watching it crumble as I tested each move. After an inspiring serpentinite bearing crack system, a foothold blew on my final mantle move and I lost any confidence in slicken-lines and fault scour. I found a belay out left on more solid dunite and brought up Zack and Alex. As Alex led the next two pitches, Zack and I talked religion, machine extruded Mexican food, and literature. Alex took off on a #2 crack that bore some interesting stemming and jamming, and ended at what amounted to a perfect tree anchor. We seemed to be lucking out on ledges big enough for a party of three. His next block also started with excellent jams, leading to a precarious tombstone shaped stack of loose flakes the size of flatbed trucks. He shouted “don’t touch anything to the left of the #2!”, and jutted right to a ring lock sized crack that took excellent nuts and small cams. A tricky high foot and a crimpy rail led up left to yet another mantle, and a fantastic belay ledge. We were 15 meters below the fourth class section of the Green Creek Arête leading to the 5.6 headwall. I opted for the last lead and stemmed up a chimney with excellent jams and one memorable offwidth move. There was a great #1 sized crack to finish topping out, and a convenient tree to belay off of. We topped out, ate a quick snack, and carried the rope over to the start of the 5.6 pitch of the GCA. A party of two was rapping down as we flaked out at the base, and we exchanged pleasantries during their descent. Non sequitur: We found a pin anchor midway up the pitch for a rap station in an absolutely unnecessary location no more than six feet away from a visible tree anchor with tat. While I am not above placing pins in the alpine, I do so pretty sparingly and only when there is no other option. With ice and mixed climbing, I keep a few small pins and a pecker for iced up cracks. These pins were placed poorly in a very haphazard fashion out of the way of the line of descent next to a crack that could have taken nuts just as well as the tree that was already slung. We found another pin anchor backing up a 1.5ft diameter tree that was slung too high and choking out some branches. I don’t want to throw shade at anyone because people make mistakes and placing pins is somewhat of a lost art, but for real please pick a choss heap that is on the ground to practice hammering iron, and pack some extra nuts and tat if you are really trying to beef up an established rap station. We removed the loose pins and replaced a bunch of sun bleached tat on the tree anchor. Ultimately I don’t want to make people feel bad for ethics in climbing, I think it is a better approach to gently bring them into the fold. If the people who ended up placing those pins ever read this, the super popular route that you are climbing probably has established rap stations, and if you can’t find those stations please use pitons literally as a last resort. /endrant Zack, tired of riding the middle, sprinted up the 5.6. Alex and I topped out just as the clouds started looking evil. We hesitated before dropping to the saddle heading towards the South Twin. The snow was soft and saturated. With each step closer to the South Twin, we grew increasingly less enthusiastic about being up high. Passing squalls peppered us with rain, and we finally paused halfway to our purported link up. Examining two cornices on the S Twin, we hesitated further. Turning toward Baker, we watched a lenticular cloud at the summit succumb to grey blankets of overburdened cumulus. All across the valley we watched patches of rain sweep the range. We had a lot of time left in the day to tag the twin, but the super wet snow gave us bad impressions of the cornice hazards. A wet slide by Cinderella sealed the deal to go down. We opted for a leisurely lunch before our retreat, leaving the epic for another time. Bursts of rain peppered us as we began our first rappel. We admired Blake Harington’s line adjacent to the Mythic Wall and undid the aforementioned pin nest on our way down. After a second rap, we downclimbed the 3rd class ledge ladder as the rain shifted to the south side of the valley. Boulder hopping and generally avoiding killing each other with loose blocks gave way to our camp, where we rehydrated and snacked while packing up. As god has no small sense of irony, instead of cutting myself on the razorblade rocks we had been palming all day, I slipped on a wet root and an errant branch sliced a section of my palm open on the way down. As we made our way back to the car (and as I grumbled about how this kind of shit never happens when you go sport climbing) we looked back to the range, now certain that a bail was warranted for the traverse. In dripping glee, we made our way back to the trailhead and crossed our final log of the day. We celebrated with a staggering order of Taco Bell – which arguably is the most hazardous terrain we encountered that day – and deliriously gorged ourselves on extruded Mexican food, extoling the virtues of long days in the mountains in good company. Route Description: P1: 4th to low 5th class. Simul climb 65m of choss ramp moving left to 5 meters of a baggy finger crack around 5.6 P2: 5.9 55m. 10m of blocky climbing traversing right to a finger crack. A small downward sloping triangle block guards the only feet before the finger crack. Two hard finger moves lead to a layback and mantle, protected with a black totem and small nut. Move up and right to a hand and fist crack containing smooth serpentinite and fault scour. Pull through a small overhanging move and mantle again. Trend left to another hand crack nestled in a right facing corner for a decent gear anchor on a ledge with a small bush. P3: 5.7 30m. Follow the hand crack at the base of the belay ledge to a small tree. Move right and up a blocky crack system to a bigger tree with a good belay stance at the base of yet another hand crack. P4: 5.8+ 30m PG. This is probably the most fun pitch of the entire route. Great movement off the deck leads to a crack system that narrows as it moves up. The flakes peter out to a crimpy rail with slopers, with a committing mantle move for a finisher. Halfway up the pitch are three truck bed sized flakes loosely stacked on top of each other. Careful, these are widow-makers and will absolutely kill your belayer if disturbed. P5: 5.7 15m A fun stemming corner and offwidth lead to a roof with thin hands. Protects well with some ringlock to hand sized pieces. Top out at a slung tree that marks a rap station for the Green Creek Arête. P6: 5.6 finish with the 5.6 crux of the Green Creek Arête Protection: Double rack to 2, healthy nut rack with some hand size hexes thrown in for good measure. Location: Go to the base of the Mythic Wall and get off route by moving too far left.

Trip: Choral Peak - North Face Trip Date: 05/05/2024 Trip Report: Choral Peak First Ascent of North Face (WI3 M3 Steep Snow, 300m) May 5, 2024, 12:30am – 6pm 18 miles, 5kft gain Nick and Eric Starting up the first pitch In late April 2020 I was skiing Choral and Gopher, two top 200 peaks in the Entiat River drainage, and I noticed a big ice line on the north face of Choral. I was going solo and didn’t have climbing equipment, but I vowed to return again and try to climb it. The route Access to the area is a bit difficult when the ice is in season. The road is generally either snowed over or gated during ice season, adding many miles to the approach. On that trip patchy snow had started on the road 10 miles before the trailhead. I’d skied in partway then road walked the rest in my ski boots, then hiked farther in to get to snow line to start skiing. Usually between December and early April the entiat river road is a snowmobile route for the last 10 miles to the trailhead. Then sometime in April when the snow partially melts the road is gated 6 miles before the trailhead until sometime in May. I have a snowmobile now, but I’ve been prioritizing Bulger peaks in the winter and never got around to the climb. Finally in November 2023 I decided to give it a try. The road was still snow-free to the trailhead but I was hopeful maybe enough ice had formed for the route to be climbable. Francis and I were able to drive to the trailhead and skin from there. We got to the base of the route, but the ice was extremely thin and sketchy looking. So we bailed and instead skied Gopher. Closeup of route I again prioritized Bulgers this winter, and by early May I thought I’d give Choral another try. I suspected this would be the time of year with the thickest ice. The ice is between 7,000ft – 7,500ft on a shaded gully on a north face with a snow bowl above feeding it. That likely won’t start melting down until mid May in a normal year. Based on recent satellite images the road was snow-free to the trailhead, but I expected it to be gated 6 miles before the trailhead (as it has been in previous years in early May). So we planned to bring bikes for the road section. The satellite image showed the trail mostly snow-free. I’ve previously biked that trail, and it could save a lot of time. It’s popular with dirt bikers to access Myrtle Lake, so gets cleared semi regularly. So the plan was to bike as far as possible, maybe to the wilderness boundary near Myrtle Lake, then bushwhack straight up to Choral. This was the route I’d taken in November and it had worked well. The route viewed from Gopher Peak Because less than half of the approach was snow we decided to leave the skis at home and snowshoe. We would do a car to car trip to avoid carrying the extra weight of overnight gear. Sunday looked like perfect weather for the trip – cloudy and cool, with just a slight chance of afternoon snow showers. Biking up the trail Saturday evening we drove to Entiat River Road, and were surprised to find the gate open! We drove the whole way to the trailhead, and it looked like the road had recently been logged out. We got a few hours of sleep then were up and moving by 12:30am Sunday. Amazingly, the trail was completely logged out too! The area is in a recent burn zone so every year many trees fall over the trail. But it appeared some dirt bikers had just gone in and cleared it out. We had fun biking up the low-angle trail. I was occasionally stopped by my chain getting stuck in the front derailleur (I had forgotten to lube it before). But we soon made it to patchy snow at the Myrtle Lake turnoff. Bushwhacking to Choral The dirtbike tracks turned off, and bikes no longer made sense in the snow with blowdowns likely. So we locked them to a tree and continued on foot. We hiked another mile to the wilderness boundary, then cut up right into the woods. I found an easy open route and we made fast progress up the slope. Around 3am near snowline we stopped to rest and I noticed my headlamp light reflecting off two eyes about 50 ft away. We both turned our headlamps to full power and it was a cougar sitting there looking at us! I wasn’t too thrilled to have it following us, so I chucked a snowball at it and it bolted back away. Luckily we never saw it again. Approaching the climb Around 5,500ft we hit continuous snow and switched to snowshoes. Skis would have been nice, but I appreciated not having to carry the extra weight on the approach. We made fast time to a flat bowl at 5800ft, then topped off water in Choral Creek. We then continued to the north face of Choral Peak by sunrise. This time the ice was nice and fat, even better than the time I had first seen it in April 2020! Maybe a few extra weeks of spring melt-freeze cycles got more ice forming. We ditched snowshoes and one pack at the base then cramponed up the snow to the base of the ice. Nick on the first pitch We built a rock anchor on the wall on the right and I took the first lead. I climbed up over a fun ice bulge, then followed a snow ramp to the base of the main flow. From there I had several options. Straight up the middle or up the left looked steepest, probably WI4. The right side was lower angle and went through an interesting constriction/chimney between the ice and rock. That looked fun, so I continued that way. Following the second pitch I got a few rock pieces on the wall then the ice steepend. I ran out of gear and rope at the base of the chimney and built an anchor there. As I was belaying there was occasional spindrift flying down the face and covering me in powder. I guess it had snowed a few inches of fresh powder on Saturday and that was now blowing down. Luckily it wasn’t enough to be conerning. Nick followed up then took the next lead. He wriggled up through the chimney and found a nice ice ledge shortly above for a two-screw anchor. I followed, and the chimeny was pretty fun. I could lean my butt against the rock and kick my crampons in the snow. It was easy to take breaks. The rock made swinging the tools a bit trickier though. The third pitch After reaching Nick I continued on the next pitch. I followed the line of least resistance, which was traversing left to the middle of the face, then climbing up over another bulge. I then traversed to the left side of the face and got in a nut in a crack. I had three screws left and it looked like just enough to reach the top of the ice. From there I expected I would reach trees or have cracks in the rock on the side. I put my last screw on near the top of the final ice bulge, then found good rock pro on the side. I ran the rope out to its end and found a nice tree to build an anchor. Nick followed, and from there we unroped and continued up the steep snow. The snow was surprisingly powdery for May, and trail breaking was challenging. We definitely should have brought our ascent plates. We took turns, and when I was in front I had to clear snow with my hands, then with my knee, then pack down with my foot, then step up. It took a while. Climbing up the steep snow Finally I reached the rocky headwall and traversed up and left on a good ledge. The ledge ended at some small trees and the terrain above us steepened. We decided to rope back up there. Pitch 4 Nick took over and led up, climbing what turned out to be the crux of the route, an M3 mixed pitch. I followed up and there were a few interested rocky sections partially covered in snow. I had fun hooking ledges, torquing some cracks, and balancing my frontpoints on small rock features. Mixed Pitch I met Nick at a rock anchor then I led the final short pitch. I climbed snow and rock and managed to get a hex in a good crack. Finally I topped out just left of the summit cornice and slung a tree. Nick soon arrived and we unroped there and made the short snow scramble over to the summit by 1pm. On the summit We were treated to amazing views of snowy peaks in all directions, and it looked very wintery. The afternoon snow showers were still holding off, but it was nice and cloudy so the sun wasn’t warming things up to much. We soon returned to the rope, packed up, and headed down. I kind of wished I had skis then, but they would have been challenging to carry up the climb. We plunge stepped down the east ridge to Choral Lake, then wrapped around the north face back to our stashed gear. We made quick progress back down to the trail and soon reached our bikes. Biking out The bike ride out was amazing, and I got some practice with taking gopro footage through some stream crossings. By 6pm we were back to the truck, just as a light rain started, and we were soon driving home. Gear Notes: 60m rope, ice screws, hexes, double rack of cams to 2", ice tools Approach Notes: Bike to Myrtle Lake turnoff, bushwhack to base of route

Yeah shits been like that for a while my man. Sorry. Right now focused on keeping the site around, many sites have died, good ones. We are still going. I was working on getting a better TR system in place and made progress. But then that fell apart as the developer kind of went his own direction. You can still find stuff. And yes it could be better. I'm the only one running the site from the technical side. @JasonG and a few other mods keep things clean. Honestly I'd like to eventually hand the site over to a new guard of younger folks who will not commercialize the site and keep the community aspect alive...but also can make it better. Life has been taking me personally in a lot of different directions, but I still love this site and am committed to keeping it going. Also invite new energy and drive, but it has to be selfless, and directed towards keeping this going like a non-profit entity. Thankfully we have a great sponsor in the American Alpine Insitute, and we have had generous donations from the users of the site. There is a TON of great stories here, and they continue to grow. We will find a way to keep that alive.

Trip: Argonaut Peak - East Ridge/NE Couloir Trip Date: 03/09/2024 Trip Report: Argonaut Peak (8,455 ft) March 9, 2024 East Ridge/NE Couloir 18 miles skiing/climbing, 10 miles snowmobiling, 8300ft gain 73/100 Winter Bulgers Eric and Nick On the summit The weekend looked to be stormy but the Enchantments zone seemed to be getting hit the latest. I’d previously bagged all the Bulgers peaks in the Enchantments in winter except Argonaut, so we decided to go for it. The route I’ve previously climbed Argonaut twice via the south face route (May, August), which ascends a steep gully to the summit ridge followed by a class 3/4 scramble to the summit. This is not necessarily the best winter route, though. In February 2022 Nick and I had been camped near the base after climbing Sherpa and planned to climb the south face route, but my updated NWAC forecast on my inreach made us too nervous about snow stability. So we bailed that time. Our East Ridge/NE Couloir route (drawn on picture taken by John Scurlock from the north) This weekend the snow stability conditions didn’t look great for that route either. But Argonaut has many different route options, generally all technical. I noticed we could ascend gentle slopes up the Porcupine Creek drainage on the south side to gain the Argonaut-Colchuck col at 7700ft keeping the slope angle low. From there we could climb one of the technical routes up to the summit. The routes might require crossing short snow slopes, but we would be roped up clipped in to gear in the rock so would be protected. We would bring a 60m half rope, hexes, nuts, cams, and technical tools. I would bring one technical tool with a hammer (for the hexes) and one ultra-light corsa straight shafted axe with a custom 3D-printed adjustable pinky rest Nick had just printed. This would allow me to plunge in snow and save some weight. We’d also each bring our custom carbon fiber ascent plates Nick had CNC milled. Unloading the sled The main route options from that col appeared to be the East Gully, the East Ridge, and the NE Couloir. Neither of us had done any of these routes but we figured we could see what looked the most reasonable based on conditions and climb that. The first record I could find of a winter ascent of Argonaut was via the NE Couloir (Lurie, Feb 2006, NWMJ). But climbing the full couloir seemed too risky with the snow conditions since it’s a ~3,000ft long snow gully and I wouldn’t want to be in the bottom if it slid. Worst case we would just cross the top of it, roped up, which would be much safer. At the Beverly Creek trailhead The shortest approach would be from the Beverly Creek trailhead, which is accesible by snowmobile. In order to beat the incoming storm we wanted to summit by noon, so that meant leaving very early. We decided to do a car-to-car push to avoid carrying overnight gear over the fourth creek pass. Friday evening we got to the Twentynine Pines staging area on Teanaway River road, unloaded the sled, and went to bed. Saturday we were up and moving by 12:30am. The road had just been groomed and we made excellent time, hitting 40mph in places. The Beverly Creek turnoff was a bit rougher, but we reached the trailhead 20 minutes after leaving the truck. Interestingly, there was a nice skin track already going up from the trailhead. This is very unusual for winter Bulgers trips. Crossing Bean Creek We followed the tracks across Bean Creek, but then they diverged west after a few miles. It looked like they might have been heading for Iron Peak. We then broke trail up to the Fourth Creek saddle, and transitioned to ski mode. We had fun turns going down fourth creek, then transitioned to skins as it flattened out. We skinned down to Ingalls Creek, trying to set a good track for our return trip. Ingalls Creek The creek was too high to rock hop across, but we found a nice fallen log across near the trail crossing. It was 8″ wide with a foot of snow on top and lots of branches sticking out. I strapped my skis on my back and started over au chaval. I karate chopped the icy snow off the top, then used an ice tool to bang off the branches. Progress was slow but this worked and made for a nice smooth crossing on the return journey. On the other side we skinned up to the Ingalls Creek trail, followed it east for a half mile, then left the trail heading up the Porcupine Creek drainage. The slopes were nice and mellow angle and the forest was mostly open for easy travel. As we got higher to more open areas the snow had a firm sun crust. We started on the west side, then crossed over to the east side and ascended into the large bowl flanked by Argonaut, Colchuck, and Dragontail. Conditions were pleasant with no wind and great views of the summits. We knew that would change by afternoon, though. Approaching Argonaut in the upper Porcupine Creek drainage We noticed the East Gully route looked like it might go, though was kind of steep. We decided to head to the Argonaut-Colchuck col to scope out the East Ridge and NE Couloir to see which one we preferreed. As we crested the ridge the wind picked up from the south, and we noticed the north side would be much more sheltered. It looked doable to ascend the East Ridge then cross over the top of the NE Couloir to gain the upper north face of Argonaut. That sounded appealing given the wind direction, so we went for that route. At the col We ditched skis at the col, then roped up. Nick started first and we shortened the rope to 30m and simul climbed. The East Ridge started getting steep soon so we dropped onto a snow ramp which we traversed across to enter the NE Couloir. We got good gear in the rock to protect a fall in case the snow slid. On the opposite side of the Couloir Nick built an anchor and we swapped leads. I kicked steps up the right side of the couloir for 30m then when the couloir dead ended at a rock face I exited up and right. Crossing into the NE Couloir This section was the crux of the route. The snow got thin and steep on a rock slab except for a thick wind deposit about 3ft deep. I had to tunnel through it Cerro-Torre-style, digging down to the thin icy layer on top of the slab to get good purchase with my front points. I kind of wished I had the custom wings on my ice tools. Eventually I excavated out an old rap anchor, clipped it, and tunneled the last bit up to the low-angle north face snowfield. In the upper NE Couloir I belayed Nick up there with a solid hex anchor and we swapped again. Nick led up the left side of the snowfield, getting a few gear placements in the rocks on the side. We eventually simul climbed up to the summit ridge, and swapped leads again. I traversed the ridge, weaving the rope around horns and getting a few intermediate pieces in. I had to make a few mixed climbing moves getting over one rock step. At last, I saw the famous tunnel under the summit boulder, and luckily it had a big enough gap to squeeze through. Nick on the summit By 1pm I made the final short mixed scramble to the summit. I belayed Nick up off the summit horn, and we were soon both on the summit. It was windy, but luckily not snowing yet. It appeared the storm was coming in a bit later than forecast, which was great news. There was no view in the whiteout, so we soon regrouped and headed down. I led the way back as we simul downclimbed the ridge and retraced our exact track back down the snowfield. We regrouped above the crux, and we decided to simul downclimb that as well. Now that the snow was excavated and good steps were kicked it wouldn’t be too hard. I put the exact same gear placements in as on the way up, and we simuled back down to our previous anchor point. There Nick took over and led back across the ramp to the Argonaut-Colchuck col by 2:30pm. Descending the summit ridge Now the storm had hit with full force, and it was extremely windy and snowy. I was jostled off balance a few times. Back at the skis we put goggles on, and decided to crampon down in the whiteout until it got more sheltered. I followed the track on my watch since our up tracks were drifted over. After 10 minutes we got back into intermittent trees and the wind died down. Unexpectedly, it then cleared out and was partly sunny! It appeared to be a brief break in the storm, and came at the perfect time. We switched to skis and had fun turns down the big open slope. Though, lower down we hit sun crust which made skiing challenging. Hiking down in the storm We switched back to crampons and descended down into denser trees. Back in the trees the sun crust disappeared and we again skied back down. The icy lower sections had changed to a small layer or corn and made for excellent skiing. We eventually reached the Ingalls Creek trail as the sun gave way to heavy graupel and snow. There we skinned back to Ingalls Creek and scooted back across the log. Last view of the south face of Argonaut We then followed our tracks back up fourth creek as darkness set in. At the pass we switched back to ski mode and made a high traverse back down the Beverly Creek drainage. Interestingly, we encountered a set of snowshoe tracks that had followed our tracks up to 5000ft. This appears to be a relatively popular area in winter! I guess the road approach is only five miles, so a snowmobile isn’t really necessary. Though I certainly appreciated being able to sled in and out instead of walk. Sledding out It was fun cruising down the drainage, and we made it back to the sled by 8:45pm. We then strapped our gear on and got back to the truck around 9:15pm for a 21-hour push. Gear Notes: Snowmobile, 60m rope, skis, technical tools, hexes, nuts, cams, ascent plates (unused but we probably should have used them) Approach Notes: Sled to Beverly Creek TH, ski to Argonaut-Colchuck col

Thanks to all of you that stick around! Some people believe that the best days of this site are behind us, and its easy to think so. This is the site where Colin as a young guy bummed rides to get up into the Cascades to cut his teeth. This is the place where Cheamclimber was posting TRs climbing in his jeans (IYKYK, and nothing wrong with climbing in your jeans if its all you got). Adding your TR here means bumping shoulders with some of the best climbers the PNW has ever produced. Did you know Mark Twight even posted here (I won't dish on his Cc.com handle)? Anyway, you're up next. I'm super pumped about the TRs and info sharing going down in these forums these days, and I feel like its validation for the reason I have always worked to keep the lights on since I became involved in this community. @Michael Telstad , @Eric Gilbertson both have incredible TRs to share in the past week. @Lucas Ng thats a hell of a contribution for a first TR! @JasonG , my brother from another mother, I think there was a time when you carried this site with your incredible TRs and photos to go with them. Thank you for that and for being (sorry other mods) being my favorite moderator. This isn't an exhaustive list, in fact its a call for you to share your favorite TRs posters in the past year. There have been some great ones, do tell. My other brothers: @rat and @lunger they probably don't want me calling them brothers as they may prefer to hold me at a distance. Over the recent years but also for a long time, a steady trickle of crazy shit that makes me question if they are human. But at the same time I wonder if I'm their son (who is their same age, but genetically at least). And @Jason_Martin and the people he has hired at American Alpine Institute. Man, every time I interact with any one of his people at AAI I'm so grateful. Down to earth, friendly, humble, helpful, and hearts in the right place. All of them. From the accountant, to the gear shop guy, to the kid running the desk. Jason reached out to me to offer to keep the lights on and I am so glad I said yes. Support that guy, he recognizes the value of what we have here! I am so grateful to him and his whole team. So done gushing (not really) but I am super excited by the TRs coming in and the liveliness of the ice climbing thread and the general stoke of the site these days. The best thing you can do it to tell you friends to post here*. For the most part, the more the merrier. While yes there have been good days in our rearview mirror, the thing about a community is that it can grow and thrive, and there always the next young person who can step up. That could be you. And even if it isn't, even the most humble TR can inspire someone to get outside and find happiness. Lets go. Thank you. /porter *provided they are not nutjobs 😂

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

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.

Chair Peak North Face Solo + Tooth South Face Solo I woke up at 5am in Seattle, made coffee, and drove over to Alpental. I parked in A7 (which sucks) and headed up at 7am. I got to the base of Chair Peak around 9:30am. Took a few minutes to warm up my hands as the wind had cut through my skimpy fleece layer and I had removed my gloves during the hike. NE buttress looked like it was getting a conga line started and one other soloist went up that way. I was pleased to find no one had started up the North Face yet. After making a delicate move from the snow moat onto the start of the route I started up. The first pitch has a cruxy move where an icy smooth rock bulges for about half a body length. This felt slightly committing to make solo because I felt I wasn’t going to be down climbing that move (I had rope for rapping). But it was easy enough and I was soon under way. The ice felt good with my sticks although it was thin in some parts and I dulled an ice pick by accident. The route had some interesting steep snow traversing on what felt like hollow snow but it was over rather quickly. I summited the North Face around 11am. I got back to source lake around 12:30pm, where I sat around wondering if I should head back to Seattle or make the day more epic by soloing the Tooth. I decided to head to the Tooth to check out my friend’s (Danny Schlitt, Ben Fusel, and Jaro Novak) alpine highline rig and snag the Tooth South Face. I got there around 1:45pm. The booting was chill, with minor post holing. I was stoked to see Danny and Ben each send the highline that they had poured a ton of effort into scouting. Nice work, boys! Such an epic line! The South Face was mostly dry with snow in pockets and sections. I climbed in my boots without crampons and gloveless hands. I summited the South Face of the Tooth with plenty of light to spare. I got back to the car around 5pm. 12.5 miles, 10hrs, 8hrs moving time, 4787ft elevation gain Youtube link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hFm2yetj960&ab_channel=DavidBlaszka I forgot to turn my GoPro on until after the 1st pitch of climbing (and the crux), but at least I have this footage. Looking up the 2nd pitch. Looking down from the North Face pitch 3? Summit of Chair Peak. Danny cruising on the Tooth highline. Another angle. Ben making the send in socks! Looking down the Tooth. Me summiting the tooth in my heavy bag. Top of the Tooth

Trip: Long Mountain - West Route via Marten Creek Trip Date: 01/18/2025 Trip Report: The January 2025 Drought continues! In times like these, the desperate turn to Kloke's Winter Climbs guide, self published by Dallas in the mid 90s. I recently picked up a copy of my own and began perusing for a reasonable winter day scramble for the mature mountaineer. And I stumbled upon Long Mountain, which I had never heard of until about a week ago. But no matter, @cfire long gave up on trying to judge the merits of my ideas and so it was an easy sell to convince him to give it a go this past Saturday. And... dare I say, it was better than expected? But maybe that was just the beers afterwards at the Mountain Loop General Store (back open!). Or maybe the summit whiskey that clouded my perception. Still, what's not to like about the sublime position, an exposed finish, and solitude on a windless winter's day? 1912 Doug Fir test plot along the Marten Creek Trail: This is what @cfire came for: Or maybe this was it? (Jumbo, Big Bear and Three Fingers): A lovely finish: Yeehaw! Three Fingers East Face....Paging @lunger and @danhelmstadter: Pilchuck and the Olympics: East to GlacierL Mind the exposure on the way down: Not fun: Fun: Gear Notes: ice axe, crampons, helmet. Approach Notes: Marten Creek trail for a couple miles and then choose your own adventure to get into the west basin. Follow your nose up to the exposed finish for the last bit.

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

Trip: Pinnacle Mountain - Standard Trip Date: 08/25/2024 Trip Report: I can finally admit it. I am out of the closet. I am an aspiring Bulger. It has taken me almost 30 years of closeted Bulger bagging to come right out and admit it. Why else would you find yourself trudging through 10 miles of burn to the upper reaches of the less than attractively named Snow Brushy Creek and to a summit that hardly requires the use of your hands? Oh, the views. Devil's Smokestack on the hike in ^ Lots of fire carnage on the hike in ^ v North side of Saska from camp ^ Saska, Emerald, and Cardinal from the ramble up Pinnacle ^ Bonanza ^ Rugged peaks on the west side of Lake Chelan ^ @cfire and @Trent heading up Pinnacle ^ @cfire and @Trent walk the last few feet to the top of Pinnacle ^ The view west to South Spectacle Butte, Dakobed, and Maude ^ @cfire and @Trent on the summit ^ Hiking out the lonesome Emerald Park trail after Pinnacle ^ Gear Notes: We only brought hiking poles and this was fine once the snow comes off Approach Notes: Entiat River trail to the Emerald Park/Snow Brushy Creek Trail. All had been recently logged out as of our trip, esp. Snow Brushy. I don't think we stepped over a single tree. Good camping where you leave the trail to head up Pinnacle

Trip: Olympic Mountains - Cushman Six (FKT) Trip Date: 08/17/2024 Trip Report: After being thwarted from our larger August objectives in the cascades by fires and lightning storms, I decided to return to ol’ reliable. Except for a budding fire just north of Lake Cushman (we got lucky with the wind), the Olympics had good air and good enough weather compared to the east. All we needed to do was a ridge link-up of 6 summits in the Mount Skokomish Wilderness area before the thunderstorms hit. This route involves 22 miles and 11k vertical gain (and loss). While much of the route has some sort of trail to follow, I would put it closer to the category of alpine rather than hiking or trail running given the technical sections. This includes all types of mountain moving such as traversing rocky ridges, 3rd-4th class scrambling, and just enough bushwhacking to feel like an adventure. While I enjoy being able to go to the peninsula for the isolation you can’t find as easily in the cascades, I share this story to hopefully bring more love to the delightful and often maligned mountains of the Olympics. Also to entertain those who are unable to climb in the east due to the fires hitting the cascades. Cheers and enjoy our joyful suffering! I learned a few lessons from my solo run a year before. 1. Start later because route finding is easier and sleep is key 2. Bring crusher wife in order to run several hours faster. Note: A few pictures are from my first run. The only benefit of a 12:30am start is the stars and sunrise. Summit of Washington 3:15AM - Heavily negotiated wake-up & drive to Big Creek - 5:21 AM start Washington - 2:36 - Hard push up Mt Washington leading to a summit. It’s all up-hill trail moving for the first 7 miles. I was proud of my 3 hour push last time, but Monica showed me how it was done by running up sections I walked last time. Definitely high effort the whole way and my legs were getting a taste of the soreness to come. Monica began feeling sick here and was close to puking. Being one not to complain, she kept pushing despite this feeling persisting for the whole day. We took one of the spicier technical sections to get to the summit block for good measure. The road to Ellinor. Some day this whole route can be done on the high ridge connecting all peaks. I tried some of this ethic on my last attempt but it makes the route significantly harder. This time we were going for speed. The final section on the low traverse to Ellinor. Ellinor - 4:02 - Other than one accidental cliff-out section, we didn't have trouble finding the optimal route to Ellinor. Running on some sections of the heather and scree. Lots of snow in the Col below Ellinor but not worth stopping for water. At this point, We were an hour and a half faster than my last attempt so stoke was very high for the day. Dropped our packs to feel a little free on the last hundred feet. Awesome Some creative engineering to create bridges and hand lines to bear camp. Luxurious Rock House at Bear Camp. Rose - 5:47 - Before traversing to Rose, you descend a horrifying amount of the vert you've gained. You then cut off the main Ellinor trail and enter an old but well-maintained side trail to one of the coolest camps we've ever found. It's the type of place one goes to retire and live in relative isolation. Monica got her first of 5 bee stings during this section. The uphill section of Rose did a number on us as we began overheating (down-side of a late start). Luckily we stopped at a much appreciated stream and took a 5-minute break while dunking our heads in the water. Here we each filled up with 2.5 more liters of water. Eating lots of huckleberries while moving. The sweet sugar bomb aid stations almost made me classify this as supported by nature. Some of the easier sections The amazing view of easy scrambling after an hour of bushwhacking. Copper 1 & 2 - 8:20 & 8:36 - Compared to some of our earlier trips to the cascades this year, the bushwhacking felt easy enough for this section. However, my MCL began having a sharp pain so we slowed down to avoid what felt like a potential tear if I took the wrong step. Here I made the decision of slowing down significantly which added a good amount of time overall. A rescue would have been treacherous in our position and I’m getting to the age of starting to value my long-term health over silly things like FKTs. Luckily it went away after a few hours of cautious moving. As is often the case, my body began feeling much better when my hands began relieving my legs of some of the effort. Looking back at the progress: Washington, Ellinor, and Copper 1. We were 10 feet below the summit on Copper 1 and didn't do the easy scramble because there were hundreds of bees swarming the summit. Literally a swarm amassing several meters surrounding the summit. After 3 bee stings for Monica by this point and a yellow-jacket allergy for me, we decided to skirt around to avoid potential death. If anyone wants to contest the route for this reason, so be it, but you must send the message from Copper summit. We maintained the ridge rather than dropping down to access Copper 2 which presented some fun 4th class climbing. The line down to Cub. Cub - 10:20 - The talus fields below Copper are incredible with some of the most unique rocks on the peninsula. Would love to know how those pinks, blues, and purples are made. The pictures don't do it justice, so you must go see them yourselves. We made better route finding choices than I did last time by avoiding several cliff-out sections, but we still hit our crux of the route leading down to Wagon wheel lake. We mistakenly took the devil's club route to start, then BEES!, then took a few good slips & slides once we got to the steep old growth. Finally, we crashed down onto the trail with a few new cuts and bruises. The last few hundred feet of elevation gain to get to Cub peak may have cooked us but it didn't break the stoke. Weirdly there were hundreds if not thousands of biting flies on the summit of Cub. I didn't have time to think if this was some type of weird mating ritual where insects congregate on summits as I suffered through the black mist to briefly stand on the high point. The ridge is always longer than I remember to traverse but at least you have constant views of the rugged sawtooth ridge to your west. The serrated ridge reminded me that the soreness in my body doesn't compare to the physical and emotional pain Emilio and I experienced when we attempted to sharpen the saw… Could some mountain goat attach the Cushman Six to Sawtooth Ridge?? I dare not name this line but one wonders if it's even possible. Maybe in my next life. Staircase TH - 11:32:42 - I could hardly call this section running, but we somehow hobbled down the trail compelled by downward momentum and thoughts of food. Thinking about how to satiate a deep hunger after burning 5k calories, only eating 400-600 throughout the day, and also feeling sick. Here we were lucky enough to find some Reishi on the trail we brought home for tea to heal our bodies. The quads took their final beating and we arrived back at the trailhead to our second car we parked in the morning. We remarked on the brutality of having to run through that dusty shoulder-less road to get to big creek; later to find out the FA party did this. I respect this type of masochism, but thank you FA Party for not choosing that kind of suffering for the rest of us. Link to FKT: https://fastestknowntime.com/route/cushman-six-peaks-wa Gear Notes: 3.5L & 2.5L of water to start (would have suffered immensely without the water we found below Rose), shorts, t-shirt, trail runners, 8L running vest, 4 bars, 2 PB&J BoBos, half a cookie, 2 handfulls of dehydrated fruit, huckleberries, electrolyte pills, and Stoke. Approach Notes: Easy 1hr drive from home. Then Run. IMG_1121.HEIC IMG_7121.HEIC IMG_7132.HEIC IMG_1123.HEIC IMG_1125.HEIC IMG_5056.HEIC IMG_1130.HEIC IMG_1131 (1).HEIC IMG_1132.HEIC IMG_5074.HEIC IMG_5080.HEIC IMG_5049.HEIC Copy of IMG_5024 (1).HEIC Copy of IMG_5024 (1).HEIC

Trip: Mount Watson- West Peak - North Arete Trip Date: 07/16/2024 Trip Report: I want to thank @dberdinka for turning @Trent and myself on to this interesting and highly scenic climb on Mount Watson. I am sure I wouldn't have known about it otherwise and details on it are scarce. Actually details from @dberdinka were scarce too, but that's the way we like it. I knew how to get there and the rest would sort itself out, right? As expected, the approach to the north side of Watson was short and quick. It is a rather complex mountain with multiple summits and ridges, but we identified the only feature we felt @dberdinka would want to climb (a striking and clean buttress that sweeps up to the westerly summit), stepped off the snow, and did some solid scrambling to a ledge. @Trent took the first lead on easy fifth and slightly runout sold slabby rock to a wide ledge. I took the next lead up the steepening buttress, wandering to the right side to find gear and stretching the rope a full 60m to find some cracks I could garden for gear. Fun climbing to mid fifth on generally sound and slabby rock. This brought us to the slightly lower west summit of Watson. But, like many obscure routes in the North Cascades it isn't a gimme and we chuckled as we scratched our heads on the west summit for an "easy" way off. Ultimately, we did some very exposed scrambling down towards the col with the true summit. The col was a gash, and we did a short rap into it off of a block slung with cord. We changed back into boots and did some brush bashing and branch aiding to the true summit. Looking back at the route and West summit of Watson, we could see why @dberdinka had recommended it (it was fun too). Look at it! You can walk off the true summit of Watson and a bit of snow travel brings you around and down to the climber's path and the Anderson/Watson trail. A fun and short day out in the North Cascades! Gear Notes: Ice axe, crampons, light rack to 3". 60m rope was handy to reach ledges. Rock shoes are nice for the slabby rock Approach Notes: Anderson/Watson trail to climber's path that heads to Watson (or the Bacon Hagan Blum traverse). Find the obvious buttress on the west peak of Watson and step off the snow.

The traverse of Mount Index has been on Ian and I’s radar for over three years. It summits two of WA’s supposed “Difficult 10” peaks in one fell swoop, and has a legendary reputation in the WA climbing community. I first heard of it when I stumbled across the Difficult 10 list online. The climb immediately got my attention, but at the time I did not think I would ever have the skills or the partner to complete it. The exposure and route reports were pretty terrifying and looked so far beyond anything I had done up to that time. The route is very aesthetically pleasing, and can be seen from the highway. There are a few trip reports for the traverse online, most done by blue-collar legends of the WA climbing community. There is also Colin Haley’s report of doing the traverse in 24hrs in winter, which seems super-human to me at this point. Unsure of the technical difficulties that would be involved, we wanted two full days for the climb to increase our chance of success. Ian and I left my house at 1am Sat morning 7/13. We were hiking up towards Lake Serene by 2:30. At the lake, we followed the convoluted trail towards the West rim of the lake, then veered upwards for some bushwhacking until we reached the talus slopes. We followed them up towards the North Face of the North Peak until we reached around 3,300’. At that point we scrambled up easy but unstable red rock until things got bushy. There are rap anchors everywhere on the North Face from so many people bailing, and it is very hard to tell if you are going in the right direction. Ian and I basically foraged upward through very steep brush until we reached the saddle of the huge and distinctive gendarme feature. From there, we realized we were too far East and had skipped most of the easy “open bowl” section. We downclimbed slightly and traversed West into the hidden gully that becomes obvious at the top of the bowl. This easy gully led us straight up to a notch at the start of the North Ridge at 9am. The sun hit and it went from hot to very hot. The forecasts for the summit were in the 70s, but I did not believe it before we left. The rib climbing is super fun as stated in other trip reports and is around 5.5. Ian led the first section then we simuled up to the upper slopes where the brush begins again and a large snow patch is located. We were soaked in sweat and already dehydrated at this point. We melted and ate a meal there, then continued up some very vegetated terrain to the North Peak False Summit. From there it is a short and VERY exposed 4th class scramble to the North Peak. We arrived on top at noon feeling a bit fatigued but confident we could make it to Middle. We both agreed that North Peak by itself is quite a bit steeper, more exposed, and difficult than Johannesburg Mountain, to which it is often compared. After the North Peak summit, the traverse becomes even more exposed. There are massive cliffs on both sides the entire time, and even when the terrain is moderate near the ridge crest, there are still massive cliffs just below those slopes with nothing to catch you from falling. From the North Peak, we followed Riley81’s trip report on CascadeClimbers.com. His is one of the most helpful trip report for any climb that I have come across. Very concise and clear directions that made sense when we were on route. We downclimbed a bit from the summit, then made a rappel, then climbed back up to the East side of the ridge, then back down a long loose gully, then another rappel, this time overhanging, down into the North-Middle notch. A bit complex. At the notch, I finally grasped why the Middle Peak has such an intimidating reputation. Once you make that rappel, the easiest method of rescue is to finish the traverse, which is not easy even from that point. A helicopter rescue would be very difficult as well, and they would have to long-line you out. It feels like you are in a completely different world, with HWY 2 and the busy Lake Serene Trail at your feet. From the notch Ian led the technical crux pitch of the route. A full 60m gully with a few 5.7 moves. Ian led his way up like a champ and I grunted my way up like a chump. At the top of this gully we were on the ridge crest, and we simul-climbed 3 pitches to the false summit of Middle. We were totally out of water at this point and very thirsty. Luckily, we could see a snow patch ahead. We made a very overhanging rappel and made a beeline for the water source. We cruised right by the bivy site without even seeing it. We melted more snow, ate some snacks, then summited Middle via easy heather scrambling. At the top, we both agreed why this is at the top of the Difficult 10 list. The climbing on the peak itself is not terribly hard, it is more due to the amount of effort it takes to get there. I called Maddy to check in from the top around 4pm. Ian and I discussed going to bed, but we still had 6hrs of daylight. We started the complex descent from Main Peak by following the ridge crest and deviating to the East to downclimb a ~200’ long gully. From the bottom of this gully, we climbed up to the ridge crest via another gully and over to the West side. We then descended some easier slopes to a small gendarme where we crossed back to East side of the ridge. More complexities. There are some white colored slabs with snow, and a few vegetated sloping ledges. It was just after 6pm when we reached said ledges, and we were worried about the time/energy to reach Main Peak that day, as well as the availability of bivy sites at the Middle-Main notch (there were none). We brewed up and I spent 6hrs sweating profusely and trying to sleep on an angled 10 degree slope with swarms of mosquitoes targeting my exposed face all night. I somehow drifted off around 2am and awoke to Ian climbing down to my ledge at 4:45. I had overslept our 4am wakeup, and my punishment was skipping breakfast and just eating a Cliff bar. We were on our way by 5am after filtering water. We down-climbed the white slabs which were wet and sketchy, but they led us to a tree with a rap anchor leading down toward the notch. From the bottom of the rap it is a short scramble up and over a hump and down to the Middle-Main notch itself. From the Notch, Ian led again. The pitch was a shallow 5.6 gully, this time only 35m or so. Distinctly easier than the pitch coming out of the North-Middle gully. I quickly followed him and led the way up some steep brushy slopes while Ian flaked the rope. After 30min or so, we popped out on a ridge crest, which is actually the top of the South Norwegian Buttress. We simuled 3 very exposed but easy pitches to the “Wedge Gendarme”. From there we down climbed to a notch between the Gendarme and the North Face of Main Peak. From this notch, the route is actually quite obvious. The route up the face of Main is much easier than it appears at a distance, and we scrambled easy 4th class slopes until we were forced into the long red gully. We climbed in the gully for a few feet before starting the rightward traverse on a grassy ramp. After the ramp, a ledge takes you around to the West side of Main peak and the technicalities are over. It is a short hike up past the false summits of Main Peak to the top. We reached the summit at 8am Sun morning. We then put away the rope, ate a few snacks, and walked east to the top of the Hourglass Gully. At the top of Hourglass, we were about to make a new tree anchor when Ian found a new-ish sling already there. We rappelled down the first waterfall getting a bit wet in the process. We then pulled the soaking wet rope and made a second rappel on our own new tree anchor to the steep snowfields below. We then spent about an hour baking and slowly down-climbing the sketchy snow. Neither of us had an ice axe, and Ian didn’t have crampons. A light axe would probably have been worth the carry. After a short rock section, I found another tree anchor and made a full rappel down another waterfall and got completely soaked. This rap led to another very short rappel onto some less-steep snow. We glissaded down to the bottom of the snowfield, then picked our way down through the trees until we could make the traverse to the East Ridge route. From there, we stayed exactly on the ridge crest and proceeded with the hard-core bushwhacking descent for around 1,000’. My shorts and T-shirt were not very useful and my arms and legs got shredded by the spiky vegetation. Once at the saddle above Lake Serene, we descended towards the lake on boulders staying left to avoid vegetation as much as possible. As soon as we got to the lake I took off my boots and jumped in with my clothes on. My shorts and T-shirt were disgusting and the water felt amazing. After that we filtered water and made meals. Around 1pm we started our way around the lake. Around 2pm we walked past all the crowds of Seattleites at Lunch Rock. We were back to the car by 3:30pm and home by 5pm. My opinion is that this is a very good route. The traverse style, exposure, and amount of work required make it classic, and the proximity to civilization makes it unique. The climbing itself is a lot of work, but that is Ian and I’s specialty. I would recommend this route to any experienced climber in WA looking to test their abilities. It is certainly harder than any other route we have done so far in the state, with the Price Glacier + Noocksack attempt coming to mind as our other long effort. I am very satisfied to have this one done, and from now on my trips over HWY 2 will bring a sense of accomplishment, rather than anxiety. GPX Track: https://www.alltrails.com/explore/recording/afternoon-hike-6ecbdd6-436 Gear List: https://www.packwizard.com/s/Q0Fbxc1

Trip: Pickets - Picket High Route (Stettatle -> Wiley) Trip Date: 07/04/2024 Trip Report: Wyatt, Anthony, and I joined forces once again for a 4th of July Epic. We went for the Pickets this year, completing a south to north high route from Stetattle Ridge, through McMillan Cirque, to Luna Col, and out Wiley Ridge over 4 days. We summited Outrigger, Fury, Luna, Big Beaver, and a few other bumps along the way. For those curious, Outrigger is climbable from the south. We couldn't find any real info on this, but we found a bypass of the vertical section, climbing some low 5th around to the right. Wiley Ridge was incredibly pleasant and the bushwhack was short. Highly recommend this route. https://climberkyle.com/2024/07/04/pickets-high-route/ Gear Notes: Gaitered gore-tex trail runners, cycling out waterproof socks. Pink tri-cam for the knife edge on Outrigger. Approach Notes: We took the Pierce Mountain Trail up Sourdough since the main trail is closed due to the fire last year. Wiley to exit. Stay on the ridge between the two gullies on the descent, and it's not too bad with the exception of one cliff band at 4900 ft.

Trip: Mount Triumph - NE Ridge Trip Date: 07/13/2024 Trip Report: TLDR: The snowfield crossing to the NE Ridge still has significant objective hazards. I would expect hazards to be similar for a little while longer before enough snow melts/sloughs off that the risk is minimized. I believe I can claim the first trip report of Mount Triumph in 2024. Sadly, I can’t claim the first summit of the year. I was a part of a team of 4, and our plan was to climb Mt Triumph over 2 days, camping at the bivy site 2 pitches up the start of the NE Ridge climb. Our timeline was as follows: Depart Seattle Area 4:00 AM Leave Thornton Lake Trailhead 7:15 AM Reach the first Thornton Lake 10:15 AM Arrive at the top of the Saddle above the 2nd Thornton lake. 2:00 PM Arrive at the base of the notch 3:45 PM Departed the base of the notch 5:15 PM Returned back to the Saddle above the 2nd Thornton lake. 6:15 PM Back to the trailhead 11:15 PM Conditions on the way to the climb: -The trail up to the first lake is well maintained -The trail to the 2nd lake is a little bushwacky, but there is a defined trail up to it -There were a couple creek crossings, all were manageable (trekking poles were nice, but not required) -After the 2nd lake, you need to cross a boulder field that then transitions to heather/scree as you go up the col to the saddle above the 2nd lake. I’d recommend hugging the cliff to climbers right as you go up; the heather is easier than the loose rock and there is a faint trail to follow. Above the heather you get into much more loose rock, and though manageable, it becomes rather difficult to avoid dropping rocks on team members below you. -For the time being, there is still plenty of snow and running water nearby this saddle if you plan to bivy here. -The snow crossing was by far the most challenging part of the approach. After reviewing the objective hazards for a bit, and debating the best path, we opted to follow relatively closely to what I had read most trip reports follow, which is along the bench that leads to below the notch. Only one part of the bench showed any signs of recent snow/ice fall, which was unfortunately at the end, where we couldn’t travel too far below it since we need to start going up the face to get to the notch. We opted to move as fast as possible to minimize our time in the hazard zone. Even trying to minimize exposure, we still had a bit of excitement as some snow blocks broke off while our last team member was under the main hazard zone. Thankfully the snowfall behaved as we expected (if it were to fall) and stopped short of our crossing path. So the team member wasn’t in direct danger, but it certainly looked like it, and in the process of trying to get out the way, they unfortunately sliced their leg with a crampon. We took a break on a rock outcropping directly below the notch to bandage up the leg, and decide what to do. We decided the injury was significant enough that we didn’t want to spend another day on the mountain, and planned to make the descent back to the trailhead. We had dinner on the little rock outcropping, and spent the time re-evaluating our path on the snowfield. We saw one more exciting ice block fall, this time off the old glacier. This block made it all the way down to the bench that we crossed, and because of that, when we headed back we decided to traverse below the bench to better stay out of the path of any potential snow/ice fall. The snowfield was shaded on our way back, which helped with snow/ice fall risk. Also worth noting, the mosquitos were bad on the way up in the heat of the day, but were downright miserable on the way back; didn’t matter if we were stopped or moving, they followed us relentlessly. DEET had a minimal impact, I’d recommend bringing a bug head net. Lessons learned include: - We picked about the worst time of the day to cross the glacier (hottest/direct sun). Unfortunately, if you are trying to do Mt Triumph in 2 days, it’s very challenging to avoid crossing this snowfield mid/late day; your best bet is to wait for the sun to dip below the peak of triumph and cast a shadow over the snowfield, which happened around 5:15PM for us. You can push the first crossing to early in the morning day 2, but that will just push back the 2nd crossing on the way back. -We opted to rope up the first time we crossed the snowfield. This was to have a chance of protecting against additional glide avalanches. But because we were roped up, the last person on our team spent the longest time under the primary hazard zone as the steepness increased significantly above that zone and those of us in the front of the rope team slowed down on the uphill. This is why we opted not to rope up on the way back 2nd Thornton lake, col you go up on right First good view of Mount Triumph and the snowfield you need to cross View of the crossing we took on the way out (red), and back (blue) based on our changed opinions of the biggest objective hazards. Red X is far as we got View of our path from the opposite side Gear Notes: -Crampons were quite nice for the snow crossing, even with the heat the snow had some spots on the traverse that were quite firm -Brought a decent sized trad rack, but I didn't actually use it (so can't give any feedback there) Approach Notes: GPS Track available on Peakbagger: https://www.peakbagger.com/climber/ascent.aspx?aid=2573855 I also shared a few more pictures on the PNW Peakbaggers Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/groups/209335589972834/?multi_permalinks=1572843873621992

Trip: Mount Rainier - Ingraham Direct Trip Date: 03/17/2024 Trip Report: Mount Rainier in calendar winter... 👻👻👻 Whooooo oooo ohhhhh 👻👻👻 Scarry Well, this wasn't like that. With the big first warm-up of spring predicted, NWAC was saying considerable at all elevation bands everywhere due to wet slides. This actually made a calendar winter climb of Rainier seem spot on for the weekend of St Patrick's Day. Me and @Albuquerque Fred headed out hoping for an easy nab. So that I could get some extra sleep and to let the gate opening crowds thin out we left Seattle at 9:00, getting to Paradise close to noon. The ranger at Paradise (where we self-registered) literally said "you should have no problems"! This was extremely surprising after getting used to rangers telling you how scary and dangerous everything is, assuming that you are getting in way over your head. I think this may have had the opposite effect and made me nervous. It was 68° in the parking lot at 12:30 p.m. We slogged uphill passed about 400 people, mostly snowshoeing in jeans, good for them getting outdoors though. I think it was due to the heat but we felt like we made awful time getting to camp Muir but upon further reflection it took 4.5 hours which seems respectable with overnight packs. There was one other party of four staying at the shelter that night, they were going to bed extremely early for an Alpine start, so we hung out outside in the warm weather making water and cooking and eating and watching the sunset. We turned in at a halfway reasonable hour for a 4:00 a.m. wake up. At 4:00 it was indeed quite cold, especially after my pad went flat and I had to blow it up like five times. The prediction was for low 20s° weather, that seemed about right. We started hiking at 5:15 with our skis on our backs in the pitch black. It was cold, but calm. Booting up Cathedral Gap got me mostly warmed up, and it started to get a little light by the time we crested the ridge. I was taking diamox for the second time on Rainier (the second with diamox that is), and I didn't realize it but tingling in your fingers is a side effect, I thought they were very cold all morning but I think there was just extra blood flow. It felt a lot like light duty screaming barfies though. The sun rose right when we hit Ingraham Flats right around 11k, it was stunning. The going was hard, punching through breakable crust while booting, but it seemed like skinning would just be icy and scary, and the crust was intermittently supportable. The perfect conditions for disheartening travel, right when you think you are making headway on top of the crust you start breaking through, then you have to put extra effort into stomping the crust down so you don't pitch forward. There were two crevasses, one we stepped over, and the other had a nice stable bridge/plug. We went straight up the gut although I think climber's right is actually more filled in. We made slow progress up to 12,200' where we briefly tried to skin, but it immediately was supportable and icy and steep and scary, once I got to a place I could get out of my skis I did so with gratitude. Due to the hard going we decided to hang a left off the Ingraham Glacier to gain the upper part of the Gibraltar Ledges route and follow the other party's boot pack. There was some minor crevasse dodging here at the ridge crest but nothing challenging, then we followed the boot pack to the summit passing the other party on their way down. The head wall above 12800' above Gibraltar Rock was easy cramponing. As soon as the sun came up it had started to get extremely warm, the bowl of the Ingraham Glacier was absolutely roasting, I was wearing long underwear and couldn't really take it off so I was down to just a sunshirt on top with no gloves and no hat all the way from about 12K to the summit. I summitted in a sweat soaked sunshirt, there was basically no wind the whole way. The crux of the entire climb was definitely the heat, it sapped us pretty hard and made for slow going. This was also very unexpected so it was hard to convince yourself you needed to shed a layer. We were very far behind schedule after almost 7 hours camp to summit, so we didn't linger, we stripped skins, put our skis on for the first time in hours and headed down. I found the skiing to be very challenging for the top 1000 ft on hard packed sastrugui, with the occasional hard-packed smooth pocket that made for easy turns. At about 13,000' there was a long smooth steep head wall that made for great linking turns, though very fast and icy. From here down I found all of the skiing to be quite excellent all the way back to camp Muir and below. With the heat the snow from about 12,800' and below was creamy on top, but still supportable. I made it to Muir with my skis on. Fred is less into sketchy, bumpy, icy, exposed turns, so he found the whole thing much less enjoyable. I guess it's just a matter of taste. We packed up camp and headed down. The snow below Muir was excellent until 6700' were a bad case of mashed potatoes set in. It didn't really matter anyway as this was boot packed out 50 ft wide, so we just survival skied the boot pack back to the sign-in hut, and eventually the car. From summit to car with 30 minutes of packing was 3 hours. It all goes to show you that "calendar winter" is total BS and everything should be based on conditions rather than man-made dates. I found this trip to be a more challenging ascent than the Emmons Glacier was in the spring last year, due to the hot conditions and punchy crusty snow. Gear Notes: Avalanche gear, crevasse rescue gear, 2 30m ropes, sleeping gear (no tent, but a pad with a hole in it), way way way too many clothes, not enough water. Approach Notes: Show up late and skip the gate line, it only takes a third of a day to get to Muir, and what are you going to do before it's reasonable to go to bed anyway? It was a bust day on Saturday: Nice sunset though, views all the way to Jefferson: Fred slogging on the Ingraham: Sunrise: Fred finishing it off: Warm summit break:

Trip: Colfax Peak - The Polish Route Trip Date: 02/09/2025 Trip Report: "ILLUSION OF CHOICE" Kulshan and it's trusty sentinel. I stared at the line, tracing every section, noting unique features on the ice, taking inventory of everything I would need to pull through. The obsession was predictable. The route pulled me in singing a siren song of steep ice, promising views, and unbelievable positioning. It overtook me in a way I couldn’t quite articulate, in the way that only something brutally difficult and just within reach can do. I always want what I can’t have. I had been to the base of the climb two weeks prior and watched another party live out my dream. The climb was right there in front of me, but I was unable to interact with it. I lived the following weeks in its shadow, playing through the moves in my head instead of sleeping, going through my gear in the evenings like some sacred ritual. I had studied everything there was to study, I knew all there was to know about it - Nothing remained, except commitment. The alarm ruptures the stillness, a violence in the dark. I fumble for the headlamp, hands still clumsy with sleep. The air inside the truck is sharp and crystals glisten on my sleeping bag from the condensation. I briefly question the sanity of crawling out of the bag. I force down half a frozen donut with a caffeine pill, choke back some icy water, and tighten by boots with fingers that are already stiff. The first steps are always slow, heavy with doubt, the mind still tangled in the warmth left behind. The woods engulf me and Murray, our torch beams carve tunnels through the void, giving us a path to follow. Deadfall crunches beneath our feet and the glacier waits patiently. The woods release us and we weave through crevasses and serac debris. The stars burn above, unfeeling to the smallness of our effort. Pitches 1-2. Credit: Murray P. The first pitch was a wake-up call. Brittle and unapologetic; it kicked back harder than I expected, forcing me to fight to get purchase in the alpine ice. I didn’t believe the stories from the people that had climbed this before, about how variable the ice is up here. ‘How hard can vertical ice be?’ I naively thought. It was brutally violent to get a good stick and even harder to get decent screws. I lost count after five hollow screws and starting clipping them anyways. Part of me didn’t want to give Murray the impression I was struggling up here and the other part of me felt that if I fell, I deserved the bergschrund. It’s the flavor of climbing that demands you stay calm even when you feel the weight of the runout beneath your spikes. I was relieved when the rope came taught, signalling i could stop climbing and build an anchor. Share the burden, share the psych, and get a much-needed mental break from leading. Pitches 3-4. The Crux. Connected...still hard. A couple pitches later, the upper pillar arrived like a slow, inevitable tide. It was always there but now it was within reach. I could feel its gravity as I racked up. The lower ice appeared fat, but revealed itself as unreliable. I'd strike it and watch the fractures spiderweb outward, the sound hollow and unconvincing. Squeak, squeak, squeak, when I pried them out to retry for another swing. No easy way through. My calves were screaming, my forearms red hot. I knew I had to continue, I wasn’t even at the difficult part, yet my body was begging me for respite. I charged and got a stance below the crux, much needed rest...finally. The curtain hung over me like a guillotine, reminding me of the seriousness. Crux looming. Pitch Four. No hands rest. Our Skis visible on the glacier. I tossed aside any remaining fear, threw up the horns at Murray, and quested up the wild three-dimensional ice. After a couple body lengths, the familiar fire crept back into my arms. I wanted to climb it clean, I wanted to send, but the ice didn’t care. Pride is a useless currency up here, so I swallowed it whole, and clipped a tool. I hung there, weighting it just enough to drill a screw, and try to get the lava in my forearms to subside. My arms burned, but the pit in my stomach felt worse. I came here to climb, not to dangle like a tourist. But I wasn’t quitting, I wasn’t wasting this chance. I kept moving. I tried to keep my breathing steady, not letting the tension in my mind translate to my body. But the moment came—a simple shake out on a matched tool, something I had done hundreds of times before. In an instant I was airborne, cursing before the rope broke my fall. I slammed into the curtain, my right hip taking the brunt of it. I hung there for what felt like an eternity, choking down the frustration and stunned at how careless I was being. A fall on ice is a cardinal sin, and to do it in the alpine – unforgivable. I was disgusted with myself for not being stronger, not working harder in the months leading up to this, for tainting our send with a fall and clipped tools. I was ashamed but also guilty; I had taken the lead from Murray and made a mess of it. No time to cry…the sun was getting lower with every excuse I uttered aloud and to myself in my head. I pulled the rope back in and reset my feet. Swing. Placement. Breathe. Swing again. My tools vibrated in the curtain after every solid stick. I fought for every inch on the pitch and eventually when the angle eased, I was treated to some glorious neve. I only had two screws left so I pushed to an ice blob where I could bring Murray up. I could feel my heart pounding in my fingertips. I wanted to let out some kind of battle cry, but I knew better. This was just a small win, if you could even call it that. The route continued upward, unaware of my private hell. Hero swings above the crux. Credit: Murray P. We finished out the last 2 ice steps, quickly, but in the dark now. We coiled the rope and made a break for the ridge line, treading carefully in the unprotectable steep snow. We both stared at the summit. It’s only a short hike up and back, but I knew we weren’t going there—we couldn’t. It was dark, It was cold, and we needed to get off this thing as soon as possible. We traversed right past it and continued towards the planned descent. The cold sun had left us and the mountain reminded us who was really in control. Hands freezing, toes numb, and blanketed in the fresh moonlight, we hastily dropped back towards our skis. Our ticket home. Dusk on Lincoln Peak. Credit: Murray P. The silence at the base was heavy, the kind that only manifests after pushing yourself past the limit. This had been everything I wanted. This climb had consumed me, occupied my thoughts for weeks, dictated my training, my sleep, my diet. And now it was done. I should have felt something. Pride, satisfaction, maybe even relief. Instead, there was nothing. A quiet, empty space took hold where something should have been. And maybe that was worse. Because if this wasn’t it—if this didn’t fill that void—then what would? Maybe if I had climbed it in better style, or made better time, or hadn’t screwed it all up with a fall, it would’ve been enough. I’ll never know that answer. I clicked into my skis and took one last look at Colfax. The frozen waterfall was dancing in the moonlight, but it was already fading away. With every second, the climb became more memory than experience, a tale that gets told rather than an idea living inside me. The melancholy quickly retreated after the first few powder turns and didn’t return until I got a ski stuck in a creek bed a couple miles later. Gear Notes: 14 screws, 12 draws, 1 picket, Rack o Nutz. Approach Notes: Drove to the last pullout before the Heliotrope Ridge Trailhead, bathroom still not blocked in. Booted a mile or so on the summer trail then transitioned to skis and continued on the CD route until reaching Colfax. To descend, we traversed eastward along the North flank of Colfax, eventually reaching the Kulshan-Colfax col and could drop back down to the glacier.

Today Alan and I got to climb the ice out along Hannegan Pass trail at the base of the north aspect of Sefrit. We had a 70 meter rope and climbed it in three pitches. Ice varied from plastic and beautiful, to thin (stubbies useful), to layered and brittle. It was a full mix of conditions but the angle isn’t bad. We rapped down on threads and avoided the shenanigans on the treed ridge that people have used in the past. It was an excellent day out. Feeling very fortunate to get on some Washington ice while we have it.

Trip: Colfax Peak - East Ridge Trip Date: 01/18/2025 Trip Report: Me, @Albuquerque Fred, and Mike (the 3 amigos) climbed Colfax Peak on Saturday the 18th. We camped at the trailhead and woke up early enough to be able to get beers and dinner at Graham's in Glacier that afternoon (this alleviating thys of the need to eat and food on route). Which was good since it was so cold none of us really ate or drank anything all day. We were able to drive to maybe .5 miles from the summer TH before we stopped at the snow park berm. Others chose to drive past this but I believe it is bad form, the snowmobilers are our friends, let's play well together. All users of the outdoors share more than they differ. The Grouse Creek approach worked well, booting for a short time through the forest before switching to skinning. The skin to Colfax Saddle was easy on firm wind packed snow; some areas required ski crampons so we just wore them most of the time. The wind at the saddle was brutal, making the already cold air almost unbearable. We left skis at the saddle and cramponed over the false summit to the true summit of Colfax. We spent 30 seconds, then returned to the skis in the lee of a rock at the saddle. The sun and shelter were amazing, but we had to descend some time, so back into the maelstrom we went. The ski was actually excellent... If you are a connoseur of ski mountaineering skiing, not laps. Firm wind pack, but smooth, with patches of re-worked powder, and, lower, dust on crust. The exit was amazing, 3 hours total from Colfax to the car with a nice long break in the lee. We called it the best skiing on a mid-winter ski mountaineering trip. So in short, excellent***. Cosley-Houston is out, Polish looked ok, but I'm not good enough to knowuch about it. The upper ice ribbon was continuous but narrow: Baker from Colfax: Gear Notes: Skis, ski crampons, crampons, axe, helmet, glacier gear. Approach Notes: Grouse Creek in ski boots.

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

Ian and I left Chelan at 3:30pm on Thursday before Labor day and drove North towards Kelowna. We were intending to climb something on Mount Robson, but the the afternoon update on Mountain Forecast just did not leave us the window we were hoping for. At the last possible turn-off, we switched to our backup objective. Total drive time was around 12 hours since we took the Orville border crossing and there were some detours due to the ongoing forest fires. We stopped in a state park boat launch parking area to sleep from 10pm-5am, then resumed driving until we reached the pullout on Icefeilds Parkway at 11:30am MTN. We re-packed for our new objective and started out wading across the braided Sunwapta river. The deepest section was only around thigh-deep this time of year but the water was icy cold. We ditched our wet shoes and a few excess items, then started up the steep forested trail next to Woolley Creek. The trail was very obvious, and we had downloaded a gpx track I found from Steven Song. The trail followed the creek up above the treeline, then across a series of steep rocky inclines and rocky plateaus. All of this was well marked with cairns. Once we reached the head of the valley at around 8,000’, we filled up water and took in the incredible views of Woolley & Diadem peaks and the glaciers clinging to their steep cliffs. From 8000’ up to 9,400’, the trail gets steep and loose, which is indicative of the rest of the route. We slogged up the inconsistent loose/solid scree and reached the top of the pass around 4pm. As soon as we crested the pass, we were smacked in the face by 40mph winds and our first view of the intimidating East face of Mount Alberta. The Lloyd Mackay hut was 800’ below as well, but we had plenty of daylight to get there. We descended scree, then traversed wet, gravel covered slabs and finally ascended 100’ up to the hut and outhouse. The hut is small with similar amenities to the hut on Mount Assiniboine. Since it was only 5pm, we decided to descend the 800’ additional into the valley below and find a bivy site. After reaching the valley floor, we decided to filter water and build a small new bivy site on a few flat-ish boulders. We were in our sleeping bags by 8pm, and up at 6:30am the next morning (sunrise was 7am). We left our bivy gear and started up the lower scree slope. After 700’ or so, we followed a ledge due South until we reached a short 4th class gully that lead to another 1000’ of scree or so. From this, we ascended another 4th class gully, and traversed NE and up across increasingly loose scree. At around 9,500’, we entered a long 4th class gully which we climbed inside of and on the adjacent rock bands. At the top of the gully around 10,000’, we traversed on a ledge marked by cairns around several rock ribs until we could go no further, and started heading upward towards a rap anchor. This was where we found the first 5.6 pitch which was not difficult, but worth bringing out ropes/helmets for. I belayed Ian as he lead up on our 42m rope, and we started swapping leads from here. There is a ton of loose but easy 5th class climbing, and we essentially tried to move from rap anchor to rap anchor until reaching the ridge crest at 11,400’. It took us around 7 hours to reach the ridge from camp. There had to be 10+ (short) pitches of us simuling and swapping leads with our short rope and it was far more time consuming than I had hoped. The ridge traverse is also very long, and very exposed. There is rappel around 3/4 of the way to the summit. We left our rope hanging there for the way back. The exposure is very intimidating all along. We reached the summit at 3pm, took some drone footage, then reversed the ridge. From there, it was a mix of careful rappelling and tedious downclimbing due to our rope not being full length. We finally reached the base of our 15 rappels or so at 7:30, and made the loose descent to our bivy site just before dark at 9:15pm. The mental relief of getting back to camp was immense. We quickly filtered water, ate food, and went straight to bed. We awoke around 4:30am being pelted by rain, and scrambled to pack up our belongings and make a charge for the hut, which we reached at 5:30. We ate breakfast and power napped until 9:30. From there we hiked up and over the pass in the wind and howling rain, and made the horrible descent from there back down to 8000’. This was the most miserable part of the trip due to the inconsistency of the rock quality. I snapped both trekking poles descending the pass. From there, we donned our shells and made the final soaking wet slog down to the Sunwapta river. The crossing was higher than last time, about waist deep but we managed just fine. We reached the truck at 2pm on Sunday and started the long drive back. Overall, this climb’s location is incredible, and the views of Mount Columbia and its massive icefeild were unforgettable. The massive avalanches spilling over the cliffs in the background make for a wild and intimidating setting that none of the icefeild parkway motorists will ever experience. The climbing itself mostly sucked, and even though the grade is low, it is mentally taxing for a full day with a tedious approach/deproach. Our lesson learned from this climb: bring a full length rope for the big objectives. A video of our climb: Our gear list: https://www.packwizard.com/s/NUcioL6 GPX: https://www.alltrails.com/explore/recording/mount-alberta-japanese-route-cd61a58

Trip: Pickets, some south, mostly north - Goodell to Big Beaver (abandoned Goodell enchainment attempt) Trip Date: 07/07/2024 Trip Report: Last weekend was a good time to get high and try to stay high. I set out with hopes of essentially enchaining the Goodell creek watershed. The idea formed gradually over the past few years as I noticed bits of beta here and there. The key pieces of the puzzle for me were a) seano’s solo ropeless descent to the NW from W fury, and b) that descending S from N Despair is apparently not difficult With this and other reports here and on Steph Abegg’s site I felt like I knew enough to attempt to solo with a bike drop at Thornton lakes TH, and entry at Goodell TH. The plan was to go up to O-H Col, on to Outrigger, to East then West Furies, down towards Pickell pass (visiting Swiss and Spectre along the way). Then Crowder, Pioneer, N Despair, hopefully find a good descent to its south, then regain the ridge and circle back for S despair, then back out Thornton lakes. Since I’d already climbed Triumph and didn’t want to pack a #4 all that way, it wasn’t on the list. But an enchainment including it would be more aesthetic. I would have enjoyed company but doubted I’d find anyone with the interest and time. At some point I deluded myself into thinking I could do it in 4 days. This wasn’t wildly off the mark but planning on 5 days would have been smarter. Long story short I didn’t complete the loop, and likely won’t repeat the part that I visited just for the sake of a loop. I haven’t seen anyone describe this exact variation of a pickets excursion. Still think it’s a cool idea, hope someone tries it out. It was at W Fury (just after being inspired by the fresh Mongo ridge entry from the day before) that I decided to instead bail East. This was partly due to falling behind schedule, but what sealed the deal was a cresting wave of snow guarding entry to the chute dropping off the N side of W fury, just east of the summit block. Maybe if I had a belay, but it looked too spooky to engage solo, quite a bit of exposure there. I had wanted to go early to make sure the snow arete on N despair was in good shape, and the bypass gully west of Crowder, in case the NE ridge looked too sketchy. But it seems I was just a little too early. Back to the beginning, various notes In chronological order - day1: There is currently no bushwhacking on the path of least resistance to Terror creek. The creek looked tricky but wasn’t. There is dry ground at the bivy spot. There was still a good amount of snow in crescent creek basin, but a little hard to say if it was friend or foe. The post holing wasn’t the stuff of nightmares, but was fairly bad. I must have tweaked my knee at some point because it started registering some displeasure quite loudly as the afternoon led to evening. This was my first concern for the loop plan, but ended up being problematic but manageable throughout the trip. Gully to O-H col was in good shape. It was getting late by the time I got there (theme of the trip). I grabbed my rock shoes and carried them as I wandered around the choss Ikea to get up Ottohorn. The rock scar has the one fun bit of climbing on the route and I guess maybe low 5th due to exposure, but it’s quite easy, didn’t need the shoes. Returned to the Col and had to take much care not to have my mat, bag, or bivy blow off the mountain in that wind tunnel. Not a very comfy place to stay. Day 2 - Moving slowly on the skiers left of the snow. Feeling the weight of the pack, the exposure, and the slippery dirtiness underfoot. Reached the snow and saw that I could skip the rap, though that could quickly change given the relentless heat. Maybe no longer true as of this writing. Finding my way from the upper Mustard area to the ridge leading to Frenzel camp was surprisingly complex. I encountered a lot of steep, exposed snow with uncertain stages of moat development. I had to stay cautious here. Abeggs photos were eventually helpful but it took a while to reconcile what I was seeing because of my earlier season snow conditions. Had coffee at Frenzel camp, filled up water and headed down. Did one rap at the bottom of that steep section. I started to notice bootpack going in my direction of travel. I’m guessing just one day ahead of me? [edit: turned out to be Kyle and co] Later at Abegg’s “30 ft rap” section (going the other direction) I found the rock looking a little less brittle just around to the right (east) side. Heavy pack clouds my guess, but maybe 5.5-5.6. Not easy with a pack. Outrigger turned out to be more of a mountain than it looks on the map. Descending towards Fury wasn’t too bad, but again surprisingly long. I saw two figures coming down East Fury. Later on I realized it was likely these guys. I tried taking the ridge up towards East Fury (Abegg quotes someone claiming this can be done) but ended up cliffed out and reversing half of that and rejoining the boot pack on the glacier. I was lucky to have lots of tracks to follow all the way from here to W fury, and beyond Luna. Must have a relatively busy time in this zone. At the summit of East fury I realized it was too late to continue, I had no realistic chance of getting to Pickell pass before dark, especially if I wanted to climb Swiss and Spectre. It still seemed not impossible to catch up the next day. So I decided to rest and enjoy the absolutely exquisite location. Unlike the O-H Col this time and place was totally calm. (zoom in for 2 climbers descending between rock bands) Day 3 - another slower start than intended. The climbing along the way to W fury is generally shitty though not terrible, and occasionally fun. I was glad when it was over and worried that I had already burned a little over 2 hours. I was entertained to see more love in the summit register for W fury in the past few years than in the before times. Choss must be getting sexy. In my haste I skipped reading the poems packed in there, which I now regret. I backtracked to find the chute mentioned by seano. Surveying it for a bit, I realized I was now on plan B. I labored over back to East Fury, somehow taking longer than on the way to West despite no raps. Carrying the 4 day pack back and forth was futile but I don’t regret keeping the dream alive for a few hours longer. From East I followed boot pack down the glacier, over shoulders, eventually to ledges cut by steams, and a brief uphill to the ridge leading to Luna. As it was plan B I had not as much beta here, and I was pleasantly surprised. Amazing views on both sides, and fun hiking. Also a little bit subtle. I cliffed out again a couple times, just when I wasn’t paying much attention to the gpx I was glad to have. At Luna Col dismounting my backpack from its perch felt like liberation. In the warm evening I carried almost nothing up Luna. I was vaguely under the impression that it’s a choss pile, which is not untrue. But it’s the good kind, very easy on the feet. No steep dirt gullies or loose chunky talus. And another surprise that I was surprised to have - the narrow ridge traverse between false and true summits was just super fun. I don’t know how I wasn’t aware of this one. After melting face for a bit gazing at Fury, into the cirque, and the S pickets I returned to my burden and continued descending. At a dry knoll the mosquitos formed an personal exoskeleton and motivated me further down. I plunged down snow that was still soft in the warmth of the late evening, then a little bit of ice (worms everywhere) then another gully (where a small stream disappeared underground and reemerged lower down), finally finding flat ground in the sandy bottom east of Luna after dark. I processed the past few days then. The character of the environment continually changing with elevation is always one of the most attractive things about alpine trips. That aspect was far from new. But the intensity of it was so much here. To be up on Fury and witnessing its elemental austerity give way to water and flowers and choruses of more waters, and so on, really got me. I think it was the impression that In the many faceted character there is also a unity. It’s all just there doing its thing, indifferent to us visitors, and doing it perfectly. (scale isn’t obvious here, and the photo is tilted about 15 degrees. This is where I elected to not find out) Day 4 - some talus and stuff and then a little jungle, but not much alder to contend with if you stick to the easiest path, which is sometimes faint and easy to lose. More schwacky then the approach to Terror creek but far from the worst. As I’m getting lower in elevation the thermal gradient is amazingly sharp near streams. It briefly feels relieving to pop out on a trail again, but the reality of banging out a bunch of miles on fumes in high heat sets in. I’m hoping to get to the dock early enough to maximize my chance of hitching a ride across the lake, and from there hopefully back to the Goodell TH. With perfect luck that’s exactly what happens. I find 2 climbers waiting for their boat scheduled just a half hour after I reached the dock. Veterans of the pickets both, I enjoy hearing of their 6 day outing and pickets traverses 30 years ago. I quote directly regarding the approach to Terror creek: “if there was a trail back then, we didn’t know about it”. Epilogue: I am so hungry, and my feet look like they’ve been mugged. Gear Notes: Whippet, rap line. Shoes, slings, nuts carried but unused. Approach Notes: Goodell