ptownclimber

Trip: Chair Peak - North Face...avalanche on descent Date: 1/4/2014 Trip Report: This climb began like many others – ‘what do you want to do this weekend?’ Smith looked too cold. Hood looked too dry. Chair peak jumped to the top of the list owing to a recent trip report and circumstances. The really low snowpack hasn’t left much in great shape to climb or ski. Chair is not too far to drive. A one day climb is so much easier to pull off. We felt comfortable enough with the approach from past trips to the area in summer months. Late Thursday and Friday the plan coalesced with few impediments. “I was ready to vote for Chair Peak until I read the approach notes which state ‘... prone to avalanche. If snow conditions are poor, abandon climb and go someplace else.’ Hmm.... I guess I need to go look at avy forecast and telemetry data to decide if it is worth the drive.” We checked the NWAC forecast, which improved between Thursday and Friday’s forecast – low below tree line and moderate above. The area of concern being wind slab on N-NE aspect slopes. We decided the avalanche forecast was not a deal-breaker. All of the other logistics began to come together. “Do you have any pitons? The book says to bring pitons.” “No…can’t think of anyone that does. Is the mountain shop open this late? I think they’re only open ‘till 8 in the summer.” We agreed on time of departure, where to meet and who would bring what gear. A final follow-up text: bring beacons and stuff. Driving in, we were surprised by the lack of snow – even less than expected. We left the snowshoes in the car. We talked about leaving the beacons. “That would be really stupid.” The fatigue of the early morning hours gave way to excitement and anticipation. We were walking through a winter wonderland. Sunrise hit the tops of the peaks. A couple of inches of fresh, soft, loose powder covered a thin crust of snowpack. It would make for good skiing if there were more of it. A threesome of skiers passed us, carrying their skis to some deeper stash. There was a lot of exposed rock. As the sun hit the snow it sparkled off of the thick crystals on top. “I’m glad the sun is out melting this. It can be dangerous if it gets buried…‘a persistent weak layer’. We made good time on the flat trail. As we gained a view of the final, steeper part of the approach, we saw the boot pack and a party of five on it. Our pace quickened. [img:left]https://fbcdn-sphotos-h-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-prn1/1606342_10202504849801060_464893429_o.jpg[/img] The soft snow made travel up the steeper slopes more difficult as our feet started to give way. The wind picked up as we approached the base of the mountain. We caught up to the party in front of us as they stopped to put on harnesses and crampons. We were not inclined to stop. It turns out the party of five was one party of two and one of three. On this last stretch of the approach the snow changed. The powder had been thickening. Here it changed gradually to packed powder, with sections of shiny crust. We glanced at the bowl to our left, the slope angle, the aspect, the snow conditions. The snow was just firm enough to reach the ridge top without crampons. We threw on some layers and the rest of our gear. The party of two headed up the northeast buttress. We followed the party of three around to the north face. The soft snow made the traverse a little unsettling. The climb was fantastic – bright sun, no wind, good ice and firm snow. We hadn’t located any pitons, and didn’t place any of our rock gear until regaining the sunshine on the summit. There we met the party of three – they’d taken a different line, a bit of a hybrid between the northeast buttress and the north face. We learned from them that there had been an avalanche on the approach. We saw the helicopter circling, hovering and dropping rescuers with a litter. The elation of the climb gave way to a sense of dread. “How could we have done this?” After the last rappel we encountered a lot of deep snow. We saw a small crown wall – maybe two feet at the thickest point and 20-30 feet across. We could see the debris field below and more than half a dozen rescuers, a couple of rescue dogs. The first rescuer we encountered relayed the story – a single person had triggered the slide, which had released left (NW) across to the slope we had climbed to reach the ridge at the base of the northeast buttress. The debris field covered the trail down in the flats. Eyewitnesses had called 911. The guy who triggered the slide had been caught in it but unhurt. He retrieved his stuff and walked out. Evidently this happened around 11am. It was now about 3. [img:left] [/img] [img:left] [/img] [img:left] [/img] We felt, at the same time, really lucky and really stupid. We’d had this great, invigorating experience in the mountains. And yet, we could have triggered that same slide. The slope could have released when we were walking below or across it. Why hadn’t we given it more thought on the way in? Why hadn’t we dug a pit or re-assessed conditions? Had we crossed that line between adventurous and reckless? [img:left] [/img] Sharing this invites a lot of second guessing and criticism – not all of it well intentioned or constructive. Criticism is warranted. Maybe critical thinking or evaluation would be a better way to put it. Maybe better thinking and decision making is the best way to put it – the desired outcome. We fell victim to some of the same decision making and group think that leads to tragedies like Tunnel Creek. Thankfully this was just a really sobering close call. We somehow walked through the lion’s cage without waking the beast. I never want to find out what that’s like. News Social

has anyone been up there recently?

Awesome! Did you consider a Spickard-Redoubt traverse (or the other direction)? Do you think it's do-able?

nice - funny seeing you at the ranger station.

Thanks guys. We got ~1k ft up the route Monday before it rained. It was a LONG way down to the base of the route from the col. Are there approach options from Cascade Arm or the valley Luna Lake is in?

Any recent beta, or recommendations for avoiding bushwhacking hell (hee, hee, hee...)?

!!!

Uh-mazing photos!

Thanks. He did walk all the way to the car with us and we've been in contact since. We were relieved that he made it out with just some cuts and bruises. I had the red pack, orange helmet, green fleece up high...and the tele boots. Hope to run into you again too.

Yeah, in hindsight it looked like that might have worked. There was plenty of snow between the ridge and Mohler tooth. But it didn't occur to me until looking at pictures...

Is photo post broken or am I just retarded?

Trip: Jeff Park Glacier - recon Date: 6/26/2011 Trip Report: We had planned to climb this route the first weekend in June, which arrived with fantastic, warm, clear weather. So warm, in fact, that we worried about snow pack stability and called it off without ever reaching the trail head. Taking advantage of the great weather, I headed to the coast and got engaged. Fate must have had other plans for me. After a few more weeks the approach would surely be easier - the last report from the Detroit ranger station indicated parking a mere half mile from the trail head. We were able to drive right over the snow. I naively threw my skis over my shoulder, envisioning smooth skinning after a few hundred yards. It took almost a mile to reach snow, and then it was only spotty and not exactly skin-able. My friends ditched their snowshoes as the snow had consolidated enough for good boot packing. Soon enough we met some skiers hiking out. They reported lots of tree wells and patchy snow almost all the way to Jeff park. "You can forget about skinning". So I stubbornly strapped mine to my pack, certain to find good snow high on the mountain. I had an up-close photo from the weekend before, and there was a lot of snow: The approach took longer than I anticipated. It was easy to lose the trail in snow drifts, and side-hilling the soft snow wasn't exactly smooth sailing. Soon enough we were crossing the creek on a fat snow bridge. I was skinning at last. As we reached better views of the upper Jeff Park Glacier, we were amazed at the breadth of the bergschrunds. The upper one cut from well left of the Mohler tooth nearly all the way to Smith rock. The lower one seemed passable far left or far right, but the right hand side looked steep and in the fall line directly under Smith rock. It looked like there might be a snow bridge over the upper 'schrund just to the right of Mohler tooth, at the base of some ice runnels. We agreed to start up on the left with the option of heading straight up the North ridge variation if we couldn’t pass the upper ‘schrund to the right (west) of the tooth. I actually managed to get some good sleep - I missed the sunset. We left camp at 3:15 and had plenty of daylight before we got to the steeper climbing. The snow had set up real nice, making for good purchase. Sure enough the ice cone almost formed a snow bridge - we crossed the upper ‘schrund with the tiniest of high steps. This ‘schrund looked almost like a cornice from lower down. The lower bergschrund is more of a gaping crevasse. Once across we traversed up and right to the col, took a quick break and headed up the knife edge ridge. After about 50 feet of exciting, airy and easy climbing, we came to the base of a notch. This looked pretty tame and small from farther down the ridge. Up close it was an imposing, past-vertical mass of not-solid-enough rime. I lowered down the ridge to the right, hoping to find a way around a small corner into a left leaning rime gully. Upon closer inspection this too looked sketchy. We concluded that sometimes wisdom is, in fact, the better part of valor - and bailed. So did five other climbers behind us. We reckoned there was still a lot of climbing after that step - maybe more than we had time for. With two technical tools each, plenty of gumption, pluck, patience and skill, it might have gone. For us this combination was not at hand. The step is about in the middle of this photo. There probably was a bypass in the snow gully below (left of) it: Down climbing the route we saw a solo climber slip and fall about 100 feet, just above (and over) the upper bergschrund. Luckily he came out with a busted lip, bloody nose and a few scratches. It was pretty unnerving to watch. By mid morning we were back at camp, and it was warm. So warm that I felt the icy ridge and summit block might have been getting a little too soft for comfort. In hindsight the north ridge or jeff park to north ridge variation might have been a better bet. That’s the thing about hindsight, I suppose. We busted out camp in pretty short order. I enjoyed a couple thousand feet of turns on soft corn (even with a full pack), all the while knowing it would not be worth carrying my heavy-ass skis back to the car. Having seen the trail from camp (snow drifts making a clear line through the trees), we made a slightly more direct track out and were home in time for a Sunday evening bar-b-que. It was my first trip into Jefferson, so good reckon all in all. Gear Notes: Pickets went in quite well Approach Notes: unpleasant at times

Leora, Oregon High calls those lines 'Wy'east A' variation. Whatever the name - nice work!

Just above the top of the Palmer - about 8,500 feet. Looking at it on the way down...I didn't see a better traverse. We were able to traverse with very little elevation loss.

Trip: - Wy'east Date: 6/11/2011 Trip Report: After several botched attempts I finally completed this route. I had wanted to climb the route and then ski superbowl, but me and the mountain don't seem to be in shape for that adventure this year. I think superbowl is probably best enjoyed as a ski. The climb is certainly worth doing on its own. We found the temps and snowpack to be nice and cold - more so than expected. We did see plenty of recent slide activity, but the snow was firm for us. We left T-line at 12:30, hit the summit at 7 and were back to the car by 9. In hindsight we probably could have left an hour later, and we all would have been comfortable climbing with a second tool and no rope. It was nice to have the rope while circumnavigating crevasses on the White River Glacier in the dark. Obligatory sunrise shot - of course this doesn't do justice to the real thing: Nice to get above the clouds on an overcast morning: In this photo you can see some recent slides and what is left of the avy debris from the monster slab avalanches that came down Heather Canyon this spring: Obligatory shot of Jeff, Faith, Hope and Charity: Obligatory north-looking shot of St. Helens, Adams and Rainier: Gear Notes: Powerful headlamp is key - thanks Dillon!

Call what number - PDX airport?

One more picture - finally got some film developed. Looking south from the summit of Ishinca.

Trip: Cutthroat Peak - South Buttress Date: 9/25/2010 Trip Report: As this weekend approached the forecast of 50% chance of rain Saturday night and Sunday morning steered us away from some of the overnight options we were considering. Cutthroat had been on my list for some time, so we elected to give it a go in spite of the long drive. In the early morning light, with some low fog right at Washington pass, we circled a couple times looking for the right spot on the side of the road. We only found the right spot on the way out. Look for a cairn on the N. side of the road, maybe 100 yards west of the end of the guardrail on the S. side of the road. Directly below that cairn there was some bamboo flagging. We bushwhacked our way across the creek a couple hundred yards west of that faint trail. We were pretty wet from dew by the time we found the climbers trail at the north end of the meadow. About this time we saw four deer above and to the left. The once bright, green slopes full of wildflowers have turned dull, brown-red, grey and senescent. We felt lucky to be getting out under clear skies for some autumn alpine therapy. We took the left gully up to the base. The right gully looks a little easier but requires one rappel to reach the start. Some of the gully was a little wet. Higher up we found some remnants of recent snow. It was cold in the shade and breeze. We simul-climbed to the broad ledge, enjoying the sun and easy climbing. From the ledge, Jport and I went right, while Gabrielle and Phil went left. On the right we missed the squeeze chimney, instead climbing easy, blocky terrain up to the smooth gully leading up to the two humps. Towards the top this gully was wet. I was happy to find and clip the old pin. It was windy, pleasant and sunny as we waited for Gabrielle and Phil to join. They did some kind of crazy bypass around the wet gully. We made our way over to the summit at a leisurely pace, enjoying the sun and fantastic views. Clouds were just starting to build around Baker as we reached the summit. We forgot the map in the car, but could make out Hozomeen, Baker, the pickets, Black peak, Goode, Logan, Buckner, the north ridge of Forbidden (I think), Dome, Sinister, the Ptarmigan peaks and Glacier. It made us wish we had more time to spend and brought to mind Beckey's quote: "once the North Cascades have caught the alpinist he is likely to return soon." The descent was straightforward but time consuming - lots of raps. We did only one double rope rappel, fearing stuck ropes on all the trees and rough, low angle terrain. By the time we reached the gully again, the sun was going down behind Whistler Mountain and a few more clouds were building. The overnight and morning showers did materialize. Our energy and motivation depleted, we settled for breakfast in Mazama and a nice hike up to Blue Lake, then up to the saddle at the base of South Early Winter Spire. We were awed by the avalanche paths and prime ski terrain. I'm pretty sure the avy paths were carved out since I was last in that basin in 2008. Thanks all for a great climb.

Thanks and ditto. Enjoyed your post and Bolivia is on my list.

Trip: Cordillera Blanca - Date: 6/11/2010 Trip Report: OK so this is a little late, but it's not like this was just any weekend jaunt. In June I was fortunate enough to spend a little more than two weeks in the Cordillera Blanca with six friends, old and new. The trip came together pretty quickly and with surprisingly little effort. Before we knew it we were enjoying the eight hour bus ride North out of Lima, along the Pacific Coast and up into the high country. The most striking first impression of Lima is the coastal desert, like nothing I've ever seen. Lima gets blanketed in a thin layer of dust. The lack of precipitation makes the countryside into a brown moonscape, almost completely devoid of vegetation. In the South American winter, the sky is a dull grey, augmenting the surreal drought of color. The road climbs high on precariously steep slopes. From the second level of the bus, they bear an uncomfortable resemblance to sand dunes. Soon enough the road winds back down to beaches, fishing boats and irrigated fields: artichokes, cole crops, corn, sugar cane. After a couple of hours we turn East and slowly ascend the rugged valley. Along the way, purple corn and peppers dry on tarps as the sun burns through the coastal haze. Grass and brush cover the rocky slopes - as we move up and away from the coast, more evidence of precipitation appears. Small irrigated fields and orchards are tucked anywhere the slopes allow. Here and there, one can even see irrigation lines running to Yucca and cacti. The locals are unimpressed by this landscape. They sleep and watch videos. The AC was turned off at the start of the climb. By the time we top out at the pass, the bus windows are covered in condensation and clouds have built to the North and West, We came to Peru with no firm itinerary, only about a dozen possible sequence of climbs. We were disappointed to learn that many of the climbs were not in condition - glacier recession, rockfall, moderately difficult snow and ice climbs with a little mixed climbing now involve quite a bit of technical, mixed climbing. We spent the better part of a day mulling over where we should head for our first week of acclimatizing and climbing. It seemed like we got different, often conflicting information from everyone we talked to. All of this frustration unfolded in this bustling little city of Huaraz. I call it a small city (approximately 100,000 inhabitants) on account of the football (soccer) stadium very near our hostal. The town was pretty much destroyed by an earthquake that shook the Cordillera in the 1970's. Hence it may lack a little authentic old world charm, but the people do not. Quechua speaking campesinos in the country and in town, adorned in brightly colored, long sleeved wool, draw a sharp contrast to the modern Toyotas, mobi phones, and brightly painted trucks. The smell of dust, diesel fumes and urine attack the senses in the cold, thin air. At 3,000 meters (10,000 feet), this town is a delightful place to acclimatize. Bumping down rough roads in minibuses and taxis, around every turn there is something Peruvian to look at. Week 1: Ishinca valley. The local Castellano term for valley is Quebrada, which translates literally into break. That aptly describes these West-East clefts through the Cordillera running North and South. Quebrada Ishinca is visible from the high butte where the minivan stops. Here we find burros, the arieros, and the grand scale of the Cordillera. The butte leads up to the base of the Quebrada, which is wrapped in hills, then mountains, then glaciers. The scale of things is hard to fathom. Our hike begins in this staggering country. Equally staggering is the tenacity of the people who farm and ranch these hills and mountains. Grassy plains give way to exotic flowers, brush, and a lush, rocky canyon. It is really the canyon bottom, as steep, tall cliffs tower high above the trees. We ascend this canyon to the high plains and moraine, overpowered by the bright sun reflected off the ridge. terrain on the approach to Quebrada Ishinca In this basecamp we enjoy fresh food prepared by Marcelino and Edwin. We get a pretty good shot of some icefall on the ridge between Tocllaraju and Palcaraju. We get in some good games of hacky sack. Our first climb is Ishinca, which is considered an acclimatization climb (5,530m), overshadowed by the massive face of Ranrapalca to the South. The hike up to Ishinca is fascinating enough, carving up through flat, green benches and Ishinca lake. The next day we came back early in the morning, climbing the NW slopes to the knife ridge of Ishinca. It's like a mini Eldorado in the middle of the Andes. The views are pretty spectacular, and we had great weather that day. We descended the SW ridge for a nice traverse of the mountain and around Laguna Ishinca. Some of that is pretty sketchy, exposed traversing above lakeside cliffs. Back in the valley, we feasted, slept in and enjoyed a sunny rest day. Under brooding skies we headed up to the high camp for Tocllaraju. By the time we got there, the weather was looking pretty crappy. The ascent was steep, sustained, not entirely pleasant under the circumstances. At least it wasn't too hot. Tents and people were crowded on broken slabs. Mostly these were loud, affluent Europeans, Italio-Spaniards, if I'm not mistaken. These guys were wearing tights and perfume (OK, it was cologne). We set out early but a little later than intended. The glacier proved difficult to navigate in the dark, and we were unnerved by the sound of icefall above, immediately out of headlamp range. We saw spindrift and the alarmed movement of headlamps, but no other signs of calamity. The view west from Toclarraju This climb seemed to take forever, winding around crevasses, up short, steep pitches, and finally along the NW ridge. The sun was finally upon us but so were the clouds. There is no racing to the summit at 6,032 meters, in fact even slow progress is exhausting. It takes seven to ten days for the body to acclimatize to altitude, churning out more red blood cells and the like. We had been at altitude 9 days including our time in Huaraz, and were just barely starting to feel adjusted. Almost like clockwork, we arrived at the summit just behind the clouds. The much anticipated summit panoramas were a boring whiteout, like we've seen on Hood so many times. The weight of disappointment is clearly missing from our faces: Week 2: Shaqsha We savored the descent down out of this valley, back through the cool, lush skyscraper ravine, quenual trees and pastures. We lived it up back in Huaraz, sipping on pisco sours and eating potatoes. The next day, Tbra's buddies showed up, and we did it all over again. During the days we worked on the next scheme, frustrated again by the sparsity of good information and conditions. We didn't have quite enough time to commit to a really big mountain. At the south end of the range, there is this steep face on a mountain named Shaqsha. it's not large or imposing by Cordillera Blanca standards, but it is a beautiful, majestic ridge. Olleros The approach begins from the small town of Olleros. Four gringos draw a lot of attention in this little pueblo - people stick their heads out of windows to check us out and wish us well. Unwanted attention is garnered from a local dog, but he proves to be all bark. We followed our burros among fields of grain, potatoes and open range. Up and east, we rode the open ridge leading to the base of Shaqsha. The summit - all of the summits - was obscured by clouds. The sky seemed to darken as the day progressed. Shaqsha. We aimed to climb directly up the face on the right ridgeline: By the time we reach the flat paddock of camp, there was barely enough light for our ariero to make the return trip, and it was threatening rain. We realized he'd taken us too far around the ridge, our approach blocked by slabs and broken glacier. His dog chased a stray calf. Our bags were dropped and pents pitched just in time for snow which turned to rain and lasted for a couple of hours. The weather didn't exactly motivate us. We ate late and made no plans for an alpine start - concerned about ascending wet slabs in the dark. The next morning broke damp under cloudy skies. We were sure that the weather would deteriorate if we ascended, and improve upon our descent, owing to the ubiquitous operation of murphy's law. We opted for the latter. This proved to be a difficult undertaking, as we were somehow dumbfounded on the descent - getting lost and losing time backtracking. This was wild, open country. We would have been much worse off if not for this spunky, gregarious sheepherder with a voice larger than life. "Aqua por Olleros!" OK. Got it. Thanks The rain hit us in the farmland just on the edge of town. It was a walk back in time, to the day before and two centuries before. Back down the steps, past the mangy dog, it rained all the way back to Huaraz. It probably would not have been a good day on the mountain. What a long, strange trip it was from the dusty streets of rural Huaraz, Peru to the twice annual sale at Nordstroms (shopping for a new suit for my buddy's wedding). Experiencing such a gulf of disparity in geography, wealth, culture and activity in such a short amount of time - allows my brain to gain a fleeting glimpse of understanding into the size of the planet and its' human population. It is hard to explain how seeing $180 jeans (on sale) could shed any light on mankind and our environment. Chalk it up to the wonder of modern technology, and my own good fortune (in every sense of the word) in being able to travel. Our busy, overpriced, overpaid, unsettled, overblown society leaves people frazzled, irritable, confused and unhealthy. Leaving this country for any other highlights that. The farther one gets from our per capita GDP, diet, street sweepers, regulations, supermarkets, freeways, airbags and the oppressive television, the more stark this contrast becomes. Life in the developing world is stark, real and simple: the tangible effort required to put food in my belly, a roof over my head, and clothes on my back. Life in the developed world is more perplexing. Am I getting tennis elbow from overtraining, or overuse of the computer mouse? Is it really medial epicondylitis or lateral? How much of the physical therapy will my insurance cover...or should I just pay out of pocket for naturopathic treatment? And how will my paycheck cover this, the house, car, 401k, $180 jeans, trip to Peru and showering my fantastic, beautiful girlfriend with gifts? And how about a fulfilling career instead of intellectual prostitution for that fat paycheck? Speaking of the trip to Peru...should I buy carbon offsets for the trip, or is that just a scam? I just don't have time to figure all this shit out. I certainly don't have enough paid vacation to do it. I wish I was back in the dusty streets of Huaraz, paying $0.50 for a kilo of tangerines, staring at Huascaran and getting ready to catch the collectivo to Olleros for another go at Shaqsha.

Thanks all!

Any good recommendations on treatment/recovery? I'm talking about chronic inside (lateral?) tendonitis. I've been resting, done physical therapy, wrist brace, etc. I'm trying acupuncture now. Anything else that has worked for people?

!!!

!!!

Trip: Vesper - North Face Date: 8/21/2010 Trip Report: With barely any ripe tomatoes and a forecast calling for 'partly cloudy' skies on Saturday, we headed up Friday night for a climb on Vesper. We wondered if 'partly cloudy' was a more pessimistic forecast than 'partly sunny'. We weren't expecting precipitation until Sunday, so it would come down to a matter of visibility. Soon enough, we were approaching Headlee pass in the diffuse, early morning light of low clouds. Led astray by the mystery of this pass, we missed the rather obvious trail - instead scrambling up scree, heather and cascading creek beds. When the mist lifted enough to reveal nothing but ridge above us, no pass at 4,600 or 4,800 feet, we descended right. Duh! Here's the trail... The sun was beginning to break through and we could see a lot more. The sign at the trailhead had said two miles to the pass. The book says three. I believe the book. The sign at the pass reads 4,600 feet. My altimeter read closer to 4,800, but I hadn't calibrated it. We made good time past the lake to the notch, where we had probably the best views of the day. I calibrated here to 5,500 feet. We descended from the NE end of the notch, farthest from Vesper. We crossed the moat low, around 5,000 feet. Here it was more of a horizontal moat, with a short step down the snow, then an easy step down to rock - no big deal. I think we started far to the right at the base - the '?' line in the Beckey photo. Here we had another couple false starts. We began traversing right to the bright white rock - blocked. Backing up a little, we started up and right. Blocked again, just below some rap slings. After downclimbing some of this, a more obvious line lead straight up. This offered fun climbing with relatively little pro and few fifth class moves. We simul-climbed to the heather benches, had a little lunch, and started in on the really fun slab and open book work. By this time the clouds were rising. For the final rope length we moved right, on to the face and into the clouds. We enjoyed a cloudy summit moment and had just enough visibility for the straightforward descent. Back at the pass, the altimeter read 4,800 feet. We concluded that partly cloudy was indeed indicative of less sun. We drove to Leavenworth and caught a great, sunny morning of climbing on Castle Rock - Midway and Saber. Thanks all for another great climb. Gear Notes: Tri cams, one TCU, nuts could have used more long slings Approach Notes: Follow the trail