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Climb: Colchuck NE Couloir Date of Climb: 5/29/2004 Trip Report: Prequill:Greg_W & Bronco Attempt 2 (Greg_W & Bug). Tyler_151 posted a plea last winter for help getting up Rainier this spring. I wanted to go up the South Tahoma route and it is an easier climb so I volunteered to take him with. BillyGoat, Pandora and Greg_W wanted to go also so we became a party of five. Tyler_151 broke some bones playing hockey, BillyGoat had family issues (the wife said “NO!”), and Pandora said I was too weird. Apparently, she has had trouble in the past with CC.COMers wearing leathers and boozing it up. I denied all accurate accusations of past behaviors but she still refused. So it was down to Greg_W and Bug. Shit. No girls again. Since it had been snowing on Rainier with no significant consolidation periods, we decided to redeem Greg on the NE Coulior. I packed my pack with the usual gear and tried to pry it off the garage floor. No go. I started stripping everything that was not crucial for survival. I even left my Cobras behind in favor of my aluminum Cassin and a North Wall hammer. We had our packs a little extra light since we had a grand plan of climbing the coulior, walking up Dragontail, and exiting the plateau via Cannon pk’s N gulley. So here is what really happened. I put on my leathers and we got up to Colchuck lake in good time Friday afternoon. We set camp in the boulder field at the base of the moraine and broke out the booze. I brought a little scotch and Greg had some bourbon. Yes, these are crucial for survival. Camp Saturday morning we got up about 5:30, ate breakfast and packed. We were off by 6:30. The snow was frozen on the top 2 inches but still soft underneath. The wind was blowing lightly and it was about 35 degrees F. Dragontail and Colchuck were in the clouds. We didn’t ever see them fully exposed. The higher we got, the better the snow got. But once we cleared the lip of the moraine and were walking across the basin out of the wind, we started breaking through again. We still made good time to the base of the coulior and geared up below the alluvial fan. Greg wanted to lead and I was happy to have kicked steps to walk in so off he went. The schrund was easier than the previous week and required only a big step across. (note, the right side looked easy to me for getting around the schrund. Greg thought the left looked easier.) He cruised up the runnel for about a hundred feet then veered right to the rock to get in a pin. Base of coulior From then on he averaged two pieces a rope (50m) and we sailed up about a thousand feet to where he and Bronco had veered up the left gulley. The runnel was fun climbing with firm snow/ice. Greg ventured out of it to place pro but got back in it in the steep parts. From Greg’s first stance, I lead off right through a small step and over to rock get in a piece. The snow was getting sugary and I was slowing down. After placing two more pieces, I saw a spot right before the traverse up and left that looked like it would have a crack but it was only a seem. I got in a manky kb and a worse screw but I was able to wedge myself in the crack between the rock and snow. The snow was too soft for a bollard. At that point, I noticed my right crampon strap was broken. I lashed it on as best I could. The wind had picked up a little, blowing spendthrift up the couloir and the temperature was down to about 25 degrees F. The snow was now deep sugar with a four inch soft crust. Kicking steps all the way into firm snow took forever. I finally realized that I could weight all three points evenly while pulling up the fourth and not have to kick past the crust. Occasionally, we broke through and would drop a foot or two. Greg came up and led across the steep left traverse to a rock where he got in a good stopper. From there, he was able to get in a couple more bomber pieces and get into a scoop at the base of the ice gulley. We ate lunch there and took a break while I fixed the rivet on my crampon. Leading up the ice gulley with my aluminum alpine ax and north wall hammer worked out OK but I was thinking about my Cobras back home. I wasn’t feeling too comfortable with my crampon and I hadn’t been on steep ice way off the ground for several years. I thought about the threads here regarding climbing after kids and how that affects attitude at altitude. The pitch took me about 45 minutes. Greg cruised up with a smile on his face. Just past crux. I lead up another short pitch and Greg lead another up around a corner. We were now at the base of the slab that exits to the right. It had sugar snow and partially frozen moss in shallow cracks. It did not look fun. The cornice was big but there was a good ledge underneath it. We could also see old steps going out that way. I went out under the cornice a ways only to get trapped under the cornice by my ski poles sticking up. I set one pole and left my pack there. There was a screw placement a little further on and I got out to where the cornice was not as overhung. But at that point there was a smooth rock to climb. I glanced back to see how the rope was running and saw the entrance to a chimney chopped through the cornice above the screw. I missed it on the way through because it was filled in with spendthrift and the old steps came out to the rock. I backed up to the chimney and chopped through to the top. It was great to see flat ground with a few boulders to sling. Greg came up to my pack and I threw him a rope and tried to haul but it got stuck in the chimney. He didn’t even complain about having to push it up through. In fact he seemed quite happy when he popped up. Pop up. It is always fun to finish a climb but it is funner to tick a long one after a long hiatis with kids. I have been working hard to get back in shape and get back in form. This was a great checkpoint. Greg is a solid, steady climber but keep your bourbon in your pocket. Gear Notes: 4 pins (2 kb, 2 short la. A couple baby angles would have been handy), 8 slings, biners, few medium nuts, 4 medium hexes (I would take red and gold camelots instead of the 2 big hexes.), 1 screw (placed it twice), one picket (could have used another), ice tools, and standard gear. Approach Notes: Dry trail all the way.

Backatcha.

I think also that the self weight of the rope would cause quite a bit of stretch prior to any load being applied. Most of that stretch would occur on the top half of the rope. This of course assumes that the friction of the rope on the slope is not greater than its own weight. I agree that the belayer would never know that there was a fall. Rope weight, colossal friction, fallen or not fallen climber...all those would pale in comparison to the wind loading of a nice stiff breeze. THe winds are usually mild on Denali. That's why they can have a two mile rope laying around.

After 30 years in Montana I would recommend the following in this order. Sawtooths in Idaho. Bitterrots in MT if you are focusing on rock climbing as apposed to alpine granite. And the Beartooths if you want alpine granite.

The 'rope' on Denali is used like a cable on a winch.

"We were just lucky that this person had fallen above Denali Pass," said mountaineering ranger Gordy Kito, who led the rescue. "Another 15 or 20 minutes, he would have had a 1,500-foot ride, rather than 400-foot ride." Il was semiconscious and could not move after his fall, Kito said. His fellow climbers wrapped him in layers of down clothing and descended to camp at 17,200 feet to find help. But deteriorating weather kept them from returning with emergency provisions and prevented a high-altitude rescue helicopter from reaching him. Friday afternoon a five-person rescue team reached Il, devised a rope system and fastened him onto a "sked," a combination litter and toboggan, Kito said. Using two ropes, they lowered Il to the high camp five hours later. The dangers of altitude and frostbite made it clear Il would have to be moved to a lower elevation soon, Kito said. Rangers decided to lower him to their camp at 14,200 feet using a rope almost two miles long. That rope is 1700'. Two miles is a journalistic gaff. The rescue gulley stretches from 17000 to 14000. At most, the rope would be 3000' and that would only make it harder to manage overall.

There was a 1700 ft rope from 17,000 down the rescue gulley when I was there a couple years ago.

Editorial suggestion - Hippies have changed, man. I would except I wasn't a hippie in the early sense. For example, when I was 9 I found a 50 gal bag of Marijauana and turned it in to the police. In later years, 70's, I had nightmares about it.

Hippies have changed. In the early sixties I used to go to the wading pool in Greenough park in Missoula to chase chicks. About once a week the hippies would join us. There were dozens of them all around and in the wading pool. They made the moms nervous but those of us not escorted by moms were curious and asked them questions like, do you ever wash your hair? Do you take bath's? Do you have a job? They were always good natured. Then Cadillac Jones would show up in his pink convertable cadillac. All the hippies would swarm around him and the girls would all kiss him like he was the fathwer of there children. His trunk would open and everyone lined up just like for recess. After that, CJ would leave and most of the hippies would disappear into the woods. The ones who stayed were very friendly and smiled a lot. One of them layed on his back in the wading pool and we splashed him for ten minutes. He just kept saying "Whoaaaaaaa". This went on from the summer of 62 on into 67 when CJ was put in jail for unspecified crimes. By that time we had run over hippies on our bikes. We didn't mean to but they were sleeping on a bend in the trail and we were bookin. I hit the first one in the kidney and landed square on the stomach of the second. Just as the third was getting up, Terry Smith came roaring around the corner and took him out down the embankment. While they were freaking out and trying to figure out what was going on, we hightailed it out of there. Those hippies were not as friendly. After the hippies blocked the train that carried the newly drafted to the death camps, cops became pigs. Hippies were spray-painted and tended to lie low unless there were large numbers of them. The flower child days were drawing to a close as love children took their toll on "free livin". The National Guard opened fire on the hippies at Kent State. And Charles Manson used many of the era's credos as his own. Hair became a style instead of a statement and Bill Clinton did not inhale. Where did all the hippies go? Now I meet long haired kids in bars and they are pro war and staunch republicans. The hippies I knew are old people with pensions and grandchildren. Nobody knows what the word means anymore. It was about a new paradigm. All the stuffy rules and regulations and traditions were dropped for love. Everyone shared everything and didn't hold onto stuff or relationships. It didn't work but it made us look at ourselves in new ways. I wish some of that wisdom would resurface. We are due.

It took place on Patriot Peak. The French were spending their ill-gotten billions on grape juice and frilly shirts. If you read the article with an eye on what was probably said based on how the non-climbing journalist interpreted it, I think Dru is right. It wasn't the way they were tied in. It was the fact that they were using the crest of the ridge between them as sort of dynamic pro while simo-climbing.

Yeah, what he said. Rated rate are they you say them what I! Said he, what yeah. Ditto. The opinions will follow. The muck will be raked. Ignore it and put up another.

Whippersnappers.

He didn't shoot anybody at the jam.

mt home is the capital of the middle of nowhere. Take comic books.

Wasn't this the article that brought us 'Freedom Ridge'?

ugh; who'd be impressed by that? i like a good homegrown snohomish county accent myself. Budweiser is an aphrodisiac?

Bummer dude. I have some extra gear I purchased awhile ago. I can sell you a couple aliens cheap if you are interested.

I thought you were faking that accent to impress the chicks.

How about Deep-throat as a server name?

"to offer flavourful advice and opinion, all with a heavy dash of reality. " What you advertised. So far, it's all in your head. How's that for a heavy dash of reality?

I used twin 45m 9's for many years. I used them as tho they were a single rope. Strength, rapping out of the way of thunder showers in the Bitterroots, alpine versatility, less likely to be cut on edges or rck fall. I took many falls on this setup and didn't ever see any sign of ropes burning each other.

I went. It rained. Got the 20' Slackline at the raffel. Really fun webbing thing you tie between trees and tight rope. NotforClimbing.com makes them. Slept in the tent with two kicking girls. Woke up to more rain. Left the girls in the van with a movie. Jogged up to Hubba Hubba to look for booty. Scored 1 BD screw, 1 Omega locker, webbing, and a rappel ring. Will leave all in appropriate places for others to find. Rain hit again real hard. Since I was in shorts & T-shirt, I got soaked. Got cussed out back at the van because the VCR didn't work. Girls can be so cruel. We started to split but found dry rock and sunshine at the mouth of the canyon. Set up a top rope and belayed Olivia for a couple climbs. Rain hit again. Bailed. Girls want to go back next year. Hooked on raffels.

Not impressive so far.

Good job. Sounds like some good route-finding skills were well used.