klenke

Climb: Prospect Peak & Kromona Mine-West Side then North Ridge Date of Climb: 1/30/2005 Trip Report: Come on! Where are all the North Cascades trip reports? Do I have to do them ALL?... Mike Collins conveniently omitted some of the more interesting aspects of our outing in his trip report so I thought I'd offer my own version. On Sunday Mike Collins and I planned to climb Frostbite Peak (5,240+ ft) in the Sultan River Drainage. (This peak also goes by the name Frostbite-Webber.) Because this peak requires technical climbing we opted for a car-camp at the Boulder Lake trailhead to get an early start. Well it rained in the night and the next morning felt iffy. I just knew the summit would have fresh snow on it, so we bagged it. (A view of the peak later confirmed my fresh snow fears--it wasn't much but would have been enough to thwart us.) We needed a back-up plan. Peakbaggers always have back-up plans. In this case, I had prepared and brought a back-up map of Prospect Peak (and Pk 5110). No one Mike and I know has climbed Prospect Peak. It's one of those forgotten named summits in the Cascades. Prospect is visible in the foreground of the right panel in this panorama. We drove the road back to Spada Lake and parked at the bridge over the Sultan River (1,450 ft). A 700-vertical foot shwhack southward on the west side of the South Fork Sultan got us to the road we wanted at 2,100 ft. This is FR-6110 that junctions off at Olney Pass but is gated at the pass. Our short-cut cut off about 2 miles of road walking (it's a good road to bike if you have one). After crossing over the deep chasm of the South Fork Sultan we came to a junction and our first screw up of the day. The road came to what I thought was a landslide area. Without much thought, I simply trudged over the bumps thinking they were rubble piles. Mike followed behind also unaware of our error. Soon we were walking uphill quite steeply. Hmmm, my map doesn't show the road going this steeply. Furthermore, it was becoming overgrown and decommissioned. Huh? This road is supposed to be in good shape. I know because I've seen it. Soon the road ended without warning in a boscage of new-growth firs but not before I managed shots of Static Peak and Static Point, the North Fork Sultan River Valley, and Prospect Peak: At least the spur road had views, which is more than can be said for the real road to the Kromona Mine. With the spur now ended and a formidably wet shwack facing us, we put on our jackets and squirmed our way through the boscage. An older forest could be seen in the distance so we traversed to it, finally irrupting into it with glee since we had survived a near drowning by way of moisture-laden pine needles. Man! The big forest was fairly easy but somewhat steep to sidehill (at about 2,500 ft). It was open except for patches of exasperating new windfall/avy-fall and rock outcrops. As we traversed we wondered when the road was going to start back up. At this point we didn't know we had taken a spur road by accident. If there was a junction, where was it? I never saw a junction. Did you, Mike? "Uh, yeah, now that you ask: I did. But I can't remember where." Eventually we spotted the real road a couple hundred feet below us so descended to it. Mike narrowly avoided imbedding devil's club splinters in his eyeball as he plopped onto the road. His cheeks received that blow instead. Devil's clubs are a scourge like those triffids. They're out to get ya. Now with a nice road we took it all the way to its crossing of the Middle Fork Sultan River. There were only a few blowdowns to step over. With a bike, all of the road we walked would be ridable. To our initial chagrin, the bridge over the river was in ruins: However, the water wasn't raging and therefore was quite easy to cross at water-level. There were several viable spots to cross. In higher run-off conditions, a crossing could be dubious. Hard to say. Some safety measures (metal grip strips on the log and a guy wire above) were installed for doing the steep log crossing but we weren't going to dare it--especially since it was damp. The drop to the river is about 30 feet at the highpoint. On the other side the road deteriorates (not suprising) and soon splits. The left fork goes to the old mill site. We went right and soon came upon bright-pink flagging. In true Mounty fashion: overflagging. Although, it was probably mine spelunkers who performed this flagging ritual (actually, it was this guy). At about 300 yards from the bridge the flagging went left into the woods. We knew it probably led to the Kromona Mine high up on Prospect's west slope. "We should follow it, I think." "Agreed." The flagging led us through phalanxes of devil's club thence into the relative luxury of open forest. Here the old mine trail became quite easy to see. Onward and upward we followed switchbacking endlessly. The trail passed an odd-looking short prospect about halfway up. It must have proved unworthy to the mining company, causing them to search higher. We came upon the tailings and broken down ore chutes/tram wheelhouse. The Kromona Mine once mined molybdenum, apparently. Now all it mines is time: From the picture I had brought looking at Prospect from the west, I could see the route we should take to the ridge: simply straight up to the 4,400-ft saddle above the mine then south along the crest to the summit. We prepared for heavy brush but were pleasantly surprised to only encounter winterized (deadened and matted) fern, ankle-brush, and mossy boulder slopes. At about 11:30AM we made the ridge crest. We followed the crest southward and dispatched gendarmes as necessary. Some we climbed over, some we avoided on the left, and some we avoided on the right. With much fanfare we found snow (and a view of the summit and one brief glimpse of a capricious sun): We made the summit of Prospect Peak (4,640+ ft, 240P) in about 5 hours from the car. The summit was a mess of blocks requiring some Class 3+ scrambling to get in amongst them. Probably the crux of the climb was maneuvering around the hole below the east side of the highest block. In January this hole is ordinarily filled with snow. This is probably the only January in the last 500 where there hasn't been snow in that hole. Mike and I shared risibilities while discussing this crux hole. Here's me at the summit with my right hand on the summit block (whose top you can touch and get your head above; good enough for us): We left a register and departed. We decided hanging around wasn't worth it. It was drizzling and there were no views. A trip out to Pk 5110 1.5 miles to the east would have to wait for another, better day. Heck, we couldn't see it anyway. Couldn't see nuthin'. Our up route was our down route. It went rather quickly. After successfully negotiating all that steep terrain to get back to the valley bottom, Mike promptly falls on his ass on the old logging road. For a moment he looked like a turtle flailing on its back. We performed our own flag removal ritual but left a couple at the critical point where you need to leave the road. There is absolutely no evidence of the old mine trail there. One last task awaited us on the walk back: where was that junction we missed. I was curious to say the least. How could we have missed it? As it turns out, the junction was right at the place I thought was a landslide area. And it wasn't a landslide at all. Those rubble piles were actually berms. They were so slanted that I didn't think they were manmade. Doh! 9 hours round-trip. Here is our route up Prospect (the snow coverage in this March 1996 photo is about what we encountered yesterday): Gear Notes: I had an ice axe but didn't use it. Mike used his for a short bit of steep, slick heather. Approach Notes: Ordinarily, a climb of Prospect would begin with a bike ride up the gated road from Olney Pass. It is about 4.5 miles to the end at the old bridge across the Middle Fork Sultan River. From there allow for ~2 hours to make the summit. In summer the brush will have leaves on it (ugh!) and the fern won't be dead and matted. Advice: climb Prospect in the winter. In a typical winter, the road might be snowfree but the slopes will be snowcovered. They were mostly bare for us.

and remember to liberally apply the Mongolian vaseline.

Las Vegas opened with 3 to 1 odds the road will not be open all the way to the trailhead. Too many shady trees cited in the initial calculation.

He was the most famous test subject for a University of Kentucky mathematics department study on IQ. His is the only one to ever come out as an imaginary number. Researchers were sure the data was flawed somehow so rechecked and rechecked. Then, one day, they saw the back of his truck and knew the initial results were accurate.

God was a pig? Poor pig got reincarnated as God. That explains EVERYTHING!

A young blonde was on vacation and driving through the Everglades. She wanted to take home a pair of genuine alligator shoes in the worst way, but was very reluctant to pay the high prices the local vendors were asking. After becoming very frustrated with the "no haggle on prices" attitude of one of the shopkeepers, the blonde shouted, "Well then, maybe I'll just go out and catch my own alligator, so I can get a pair of shoes for free!" The shopkeeper said with a sly, knowing smile, "Little lady, just go and give it a try!" The blonde headed out toward the swamps, determined to catch an alligator. Later in the day, as the shopkeeper is driving home, he pulls over to the side of the levee where he spots that same young woman standing waist deep in the murky bayou water, shotgun in hand. Just then, he spots a huge 9-foot gator swimming rapidly toward her. With lightning speed, she takes aim, kills the creature and hauls it onto the slimy bank of the swamp. Lying nearby were 7 more of the dead creatures, all lying on their backs. The shopkeeper stood on the bank, watching in silent amazement. The blonde struggled and flipped the gator onto its back. Rolling her eyes heavenward and screaming in great frustration, she shouts out ... "SHIT... THIS ONE'S BAREFOOT TOO!"

Re: first paragraph: Huh? Re: second paragraph: Ah, I see.

Yeah, where are all the hot, sexy, pretty bushwhacker peakbagger babes?

Mmm mmmm, venison.

"Man, we need some sort of astonishing technological development to bail us out." If only humanity could harness the power of Spray.

A bunch of us were up in the region west of Mt. Baker and north of Twin Sisters. What an incredibly low amount of snow up there! Bare ground all over the place at 4,700 ft. Logging roads were snow-free up to at least 3,600 ft. I expect it's all gone from Cascade River Road too. There was a new mudslide across the road we wanted to get up (FR-38) so the recent heavy rains have caused some slides/washouts. Clearwater Creek was going gonzo. So was the Middle Fork Nooksack. As you say, I think you're going to have to go up there to get the current conditions. The NCNP guys probably won't be venturing up there to find out in the off-season.

As my Ruby TR mentioned, we could not get past the stone wall overlook (a couple miles before the Lookout Mtn T.H.) due to deep snow on the road. The elevation there is about 1200 ft. There was about 18 inches of snow on the road there. Of course, all that was before the current warming trend. No telling how much of that snow has melted now.

The last book I read was the Da Vinci Code. It started out well but degraded as it went, much like garbage does when you don't take it out in a timely manner. At first I found the premise and the biblical/religious references and suppositions intriguing. But then the story became predictable and seemed to be paced in 4/4 time. Everytime Langdon and Sofie got into a predicament I just knew Mr. Brown was going to come up with some ridiculous escape. Like TV (and the movies), it all hinged on the stupidity of the pursuers. Furthermore, I've never seen two characters cover so much terrain in one night. There were absolutely no respites or delays--just like TV shows that need to get on with the story lest they bore the audience. The ending was lame, too. It wrapped up like a movie ripe for a sequel. And who among us who read it didn't have it figured out who the real villain was? Mr. Brown tried to supply red herring characters to throw me off, but it became quite obvious who The Teacher was. Just like in TV shows like CSI and Law & Order, there are a finite number of characters; therefore, with a little logic and recognition of plot cards played, you can figure out the real culprit. On a scale of 1 to 10, I'd rate it a 4. There's a reason why I'd rather stick to reading my backlog of classics and not this contemporary rubbish that gets churned out these days for the sake of entertainment $$$. Edit: This just in: Tautou to play Sofie in movie version. A good choice, I guess. But Tom Hanks as Langdon? Come on! Also, looks like Ron Howard is directing. Yesterday a scene from the upcoming movie "Expiration Date" was being filmed right by my apartment here on Queen Anne. Lots of activity and equipment just to film a milk truck coming up the hill at 25mph. What was more humorous was the Seattle recycling truck doing its rounds at the same time that kept delaying the "Action" call. Recycle guy must have been laughing his way down the street, stopping where he needed to. Garbage waits for no man...or film.

That was me. Did you notice how well I captured my nose? Hard to draw your own outline while sprawled on your stomach hoping that car that's coming is going as slow as it looks like it is.

I like Heinekan as a summer post-climb brew--especially in those keg-shaped canicans. I don't drink it otherwise.

Cans would pack better in a backpack and be lighter than bottles but would be prone to immature puncture. Dilemmas dilemmas.

Thanks for the tip, Dru. I'll do that from now on during really cold outings. Or maybe just breathe hot breath on it. Might work. Pax: It was Mike's propane stove. Mine of similar nature has worked fine in the past in 15-32F temps. His was having trouble but the burner is different. He thought perhaps ice or frost was clogging the ports. I can't remember for sure but I think he slept with the bottle that night but not the burner. Tent pole: You know how it is when someone else tries to put up your tent: inadvertant breakage. In this case, Mike wasn't completely to blame because the folding pole was already cracked at the tip of one of its sections. Mike basically propogated the failure farther down from the tip (an inch or so). This caused a very sharp edge that quickly tore through the tent's pole loop fabric. We couldn't feed the pole through further unless we could remove the offending sharp edge first. Mike's Swiss Army knife performed this (I got a new Leatherman tool for X-mas but failed to bring it; d'oh!). That particular section of pole is now an inch shorter but I think it will be fine. I'm more worried about continued ripping of the loop fabric.

Mike wrote up his own report for our climb on NWhikers.net. Click here for his version of events (I forgot some interesting details. Yeah, imagine that!).

Bingo. I am reading through "Poets on the Peaks" right now and apparently another whimsical name for this lookout was the "Hidden Lake Hilton" apparently because of its "modest" accomodations. This was mentioned in Chapter 1, page 4. Perhaps the author Suiter will elaborate more later.

That was <name deleted> float for the Tournament of Roses Parade. The float got stuck when it ran over the people marching in front: his stopwatch-toting split time verifiers. Long live Jennifer Garner! <name deleted>

Probably lots. I know some from myself or my partners are probably in that pile. Kelly didn't say what would become of them. Or, if she did, I've forgotten. Perhaps Kelly (ncascadesranger) will respond here with the answer.

Views from the outing (mostly summit views): Also, there is Gary's Ruby TR from August '04.

Climb: Ruby Mountain-South Ridge Date of Climb: 1/14/2005 Trip Report: A little rainy day reading, perhaps?... There are two Ruby Mountains in Washington. We did this one not this one in Pend Oreille County. Mike Collins and I had orginally planned to do Sonny Boy and Sunny Girl but we couldn't get up Cascade River Road (we turned around due to deep snow just about at the stone wall overlook a mile or so before the Lookout Mountain Trail). Looking for a secondary plan (and other maps), we stopped in the Marblemount Ranger Station. Closed. No formal hours. Undaunted, we visited a nearby building and a geologist helped us into the main visitor building. It was while in there we bumped into Kelly Bush, Wilderness Ranger for North Cascades National Park. Mike and Kelly knew each other from Mike's heady experiences on Thunder Peak. Kelly didn't know me but I edited her submission to the NWMJ last year. She soon found out who I was. And she didn't even scowl at me for any ill-conceived redactions on my part. It was Kelly who suggested we try for Ruby Mountain and that's what we did. She generously let us borrow the requisite maps because she couldn't sell them to us. On the way out the back door through the gear room, Mike and I spotted a hefty sack full of old runners. Kelly told us they had all been taken off Mt. Triumph last year (I am assuming mostly off the NE Ridge). We took the pile of runners outside for a photo. It must have weighed 20 lbs! Mike and I then drove to Thunder Arm. We passed quite a bit of nice ice on the way there. Nice for pictures, probably too brittle for climbing. Colonial Creek Campground was inaccessible so we parked off the highway (1,240 ft). We started from Mike's SUV at 11:45AM. The temperature on his vehicle reported 34F. Snow cover in the campground parking lot was about 3 inches of crust. There was less under the trees. We knew the bridge was out and had heard rumors of a logjam crossing of Thunder Creek. In about 20 minutes from the car, sure enough we discovered the bridge completely gone. Only the concrete stanchion on the east side remained. There was indeed a logjam about 200 yards downstream, so back to it we went. It was a three-stage crossing. The last stage was across a two-foot diameter horizontal log spanning a moderately rushing torrent. The 40-ft shimmy froze our testicles (more on testicles later), but we managed to get across to the east side of the creek. It took us about 20 minutes to find a "dry" way across. I somehow doubted I would care if I got my feet wet on the return. Mike on the last log (blue arrow points to beginning of crossing on west side of creek): From there on it was a fairly straightforward hump up the trail to Fourth of July Pass (3,500 ft). We pulled into Fourth of July Camp (c. 3,600 ft) just west of the pass at around 3:00PM. A signpost said there were campsites to the left and right. I went left. I was mainly in search of a water source. Fortuitously, we found one and so near there we pitched my tent, snapping a pole in the process but at least it didn't compromise erection integrity. The night would be cold, we knew. The day had been cloudy but we could see it was clearing up. No doubt radiative cooling would be in full effect during the night. We woke in the morning to frost...on the inside of the tent! Inside the tent it was 22F. Outside it was...want to take a guess?...6F. Brrrr! The weather was crystal clear. The views would be outstanding once we got into the alpine. We left camp hastily at 8:45AM after realizing it was too cold for the stove to heat the water to boiling. I had luke warm granola cereal. I had figured it would take 8 hours round trip to do the 3,800-ft climb. The first thing we noticed is there wasn't enough snow coverage between camp and about 4,500 ft to allow for kick stepping. We had to sketch our way up some steep and sometimes rocky terrain on icy duff covered by 4-6 inches of powder. It was not pleasant. It also slowed us down. At one point I even had to chop a foothold in the frozen duff with my pole. Eventually we surmounted the steepest escarpment and got our first views west to Styloid Peak, Distal Phalanx, Snowfield Peak, and Colonial Peak and south to Primus Peak, Later Red Mountain and Ragged Ridge would present themselves. Somewhere along the way while he was behind me, Mike ditched his pack and donned his snowshoes. I waited until 5,000 ft to put on mine. They really helped, for in the 4,500 to 5,500-ft level the snow was quite deep and soft. High above, the summit ridge seemed so far away. At around 6,000 ft we got our first good views of the route to the summit ridge: The South Ridge spur allowed for an avalanche free corridor to the top. What's more, at about 6,500 ft the ridge became quite windswept. Snowshoes weren't even necessary for this: We wanted to cross an open slope northwestward to make a beeline for the true summit but my large Tubbs snowshoes don't like crusty, icy traverses. They're good for uphill and trudging (sinking in) but that's about it. Instead, we turned right to go up a steep crusty slope with small rock exposures. Mike smartly took his snowshoes off and stashed them. I am dumb, though. I scratched and clawed my clumsy way up, placing my snowshoes on the rock protruberances for footholds. We finally made the final ridge (c. 7200 ft) about 0.3 miles SE of the true summit, which we could see in the distance with a radio structure at its top: I too took off my snowshoes (we should have never taken them above about 6,000 ft) and off we went. Man, it was a long way over there. The snow was very crusty. No sinking in whatsoever. It was verging on icy and we both slipped here and there. We arrived at the summit (7408', 3888P) at just about 3:15PM. It had taken 6 hours, 30 minutes to make the ascent. The summit views: All I can say is "Wow!" I'm so glad the weather was perfect for us. It was such a nice day, I expected to see John Scurlock in the sky. Whenever I'd hear a plane buzzing around, I thought it might be him. See my next post for thumbnails of more views. Meanwhile, here's Ross Lake: While Mike descended ahead of me, I snapped off photos as quick as I could. Cameras sure do quickly sap heat from your fingers when the air temperature is 10-20F. I would not see Mike again until it was time to put on our headlamp. Yes, you heard me correctly. Singular headlamp: mine. Mike had forgotten his in the tent. At about 5:15PM at circa 4,000 ft the light had finally dwindled enough that I had a hard time seeing our bootsteps in the thick forest. I stopped to get out my headlamp. Just in case he was nearby, I called out for Mike in the darkness. He called back not 100 ft from me. That was funny. I went down to his position and got out my headlamp. We were just about to continue on our way when I tried to adjust my Tikka Plus headlamp to the higher lumination setting. Uh oh! All of a sudden the headlamp wouldn't stay on unless I kept my finger on the button. Was this the headlamp's indicator that it was time to change batteries, something I had not yet done since I bought it in 2003? The good news is I had spare batteries. The bad news is I'd have to put them in by feel since it was now completely dark. The first difficulty was simply opening up the headlamp to gain access to the batteries. I didn't initially notice it took three batteries, not two. That problem solved (no wonder it wouldn't work!), I next needed to put them in the right arrangement (+/- alignment). All this while maxing out my dexterity. I simply couldn't afford to drop the batteries in the snow. I tried multiple arrangements but to no avail. Had I inadvertantly broken the light while opening the case? "You're screwed," we heard a chipmunk chuckle. Ah, but we did have one light source available: Mike's cell phone. So while Mike searched for it (by feel) in his pack, I took another stab at fixing my headlamp. Eureka! Mike found his cell and we used its display light to illuminate the back of my lamp so I could see how to snap it shut. We would have looked unbelievably stupid descending that last half-mile to camp with only the lame light of a cell phone display. I could just picture Mike holding the display six inches above the ground as we tracked our tracks fading into the blackness a short distance away. He'd look like one of those cartoon sleuths with a big round magnifying glass. Only a magnifying glass doesn't have a battery life problem to deal with. With one headlamp between us we finally stumbled back into camp at 6:45PM (10 hours round trip). We didn't bother cooking anything. We simply rehydrated at the creek, ate my two donuts, and went to bed. My snow pants were damp at the ankle and this would be uncomfortable in the sleeping bag but that was not the end of it. Somehow one of my water bottles that I took into the bag with me began to leak. I was awakened with a cold wet sensation on my back. Shit shit! I removed the offending bottles and let the spilt water "pour" out of the bag. The night would not be the same for me. But morning eventually came. And this morning managed to surpass the previous morning: it was 4F outside the tent! Like the previous morning, the biggest challenge was stepping into my frozen leather boots. (If I'm going to start doing more winter overnighters, I'm going to have to acquire plastics.). Low down on the trail before the logjam crossing we encountered a hiker coming the other way. We certainly didn't expect to see anyone on the east side of the crossing. And, lo and behold, it's Jerry Huddle. I had just met him less than a month ago on Trappers Peak and here he is again. He and Mike knew each other. Jerry had followed our tracks across the logjam and was out for a day hike to Fourth of July Pass. Back at the logjam we simply walked across the creek in the shallowest areas. With the car so close, soggy feet wouldn't be a problem. Besides, we didn't feel like putting our testicles on ice again shimmying back across the log. Here's Mike at the creek crossing with conquered Ruby above and behind (pink arrow is the testicle freezer machine): The last mile back to the car sucked, plain and simple. There are always more ups and downs on a trail on the way out than the way in..or at least that's how it seems, anyway. The final slog across the crusty parking lot seemed to go on forever. I promised more about testicles, didn't I? Well, we were very hungry so stopped in at Bull Run Restaurant in Marblemount. I had my first sampling of Cascade mountain oysters (I'll never be able to look at a bummed steer the same way again). Lessons learned: Don't take bananas on a winter outing; you can't eat a frozen banana. Also, frozen string cheese tastes weird. Lastly, when it's 4F outside don't spill water in your sleeping bag. Achievement gained: These were my coldest nights spent outdoors (i.e., outside a building). I think this was the case for Mike too. ---Paul Klenke 1/17/05 P.S. Thanks Kelly for the suggestion! P.P.S. Mike and I both know a dreamer who thinks he can climb Ruby in a day from the road a couple weeks from now. All I can say is he is being Ambitious (note capital 'A'). It's a 5,200+ ft gain from the highway, depending on where you leave it. If snow conditions don't improve markedly at lower elevations, it will be tough going. Steep duff can be slippery even in summer. Now firm it up and spread light powder over it and you've got a recipe for exhaustion. Gear Notes: Used: Snowshoes, all of our clothes. Shoulda had: warmer clothes, better cold-temperature stove, chemical hand warmers, shoe horn for frozen leather boots. Approach Notes: Trail to camp is in good shape...except for the little issue with the bridge being out over Thunder Creek. A nearby logjam (~200 yards downstream) provides the detour. Let's hope NCNP gets the funds to fix the bridge this year.

the sluggies?

Life is...