Dannible

Yep. This, in my opinion, is the most impressive alpine thing to happen in the lower 48...ever maybe? One of the most impressive climbs period if alpine climbing is important to you. It's hard to compare anything done these days to big routes done in the first half of the 20th century, but damn, that ridge is long. To fully appreciate what these guys did one needs to look at the Pickets from a few different angles, and take a couple of trips into the range. Looking at it from Triumph some years back I told my friend that a full traverse would be impossible. In the years that followed I dedicated every part of my life to climbing before trying the full ridge with Jens and Sol (we got half way). After that trip we all knew that it would someday be done, but that whoever pulled it off would have to be a truly great athlete at the top of their game. After years of giving climbing their all, these guys have earned this. I think the part about missing a few summits is kind of poetic. They finished the traverse enough that it would be hard for the next party to really, truly claim a first, but still there is an unclaimed prize to be had. There will always be adventure to be had in the Pickets. I don't think any climber could ever outgrow that place (case in point: the complete lack of big routes that have been done in the winter). Good work guys!

I'd call it pretty close to done this year. There will be corn up high, but valley bottoms and slopes that get a lot of sun are melting quick. I'm sure the Stuart range is good still.

Trip: Big Chiwaukum - NW Face Couloir Date: 4/1/2013 Trip Report: Winter happened. It came and went in a haze of wind blasted chairlift rides, legs pushing uphill, skins being torn off and stuck back on minutes later, ridges, summits, lift lines, laughs and hoots, wet boots, sore thighs that resist getting up every morning, late nights working out in the cold and sometimes the driving snow, knowing that tomorrow would be a long day but also a good day, the best kind of day. There were periods of time when every evening I would claim that tomorrow I would rest, but every morning wake up early knowing that there is still untracked snow, just a little further out than where it was the day before. In those few periods of time when there was truly no good snow that could be reached in the time that I had to find it, I would get on the chairlift where I earn most of my living during the winter and take a short ride up to where I could watch the last light of the day highlight the sheer, black northwest facing wall of Big Chiwaukum rising above everything else with its two perfect white stripes, and know again that there is still powder out there. It’s been the same way every winter for a while now. With spring in full effect and nothing but sun in the forecast my roommate and old friend Phil and I started skinning up the north side of Arrowhead, just east of Stevens Pass on Sunday afternoon. Heavy packs, the blazing sun, and the rushed feeling that came with a late start made the skin to the top of the ridge between Arrowhead and Jim Hill seem to drag on way too long. From the ridge top Big Chiwaukum looked far away, and the sun looked very low in the sky. We snapped a few pictures and dropped in, committing ourselves to the White Pine valley. Having skinned up White Pine Creek from the normal summer trailhead to ski a random couloir on an unnamed peak a month or so before, we decided to avoid that approach in the future only because it’s boring. We thought this up-and-over Arrowhead thing would be much more interesting, and oh boy, were we right. Wet slides, trees that were way too tight, dead ending between gullies, skiing over dirt, and scary bridges over streams got us to the valley floor, where we went back and forth and down and around to find a reasonable log to get us across the creek just upstream from the junction of Wildhorse and White Pine Creeks. We broke out the map and compass to get our bearings before dark, and set off up the Wildhorse valley. We contoured up the hillside trying to guess how far we’d gone to identify terrain features that I had seen on Google Earth and from the ridge top earlier in the day to help us find the basin below Big Chiwaukum in the dark. We would adjust our course based on these landmarks. This is called dead reckoning. Of course, this kind of navigation is subject to a lot of human error, and if you get too excited and over-confident you might find yourself overestimating how fast you can skin late at night with a heavy pack, and you might find that your mind can trick you into believing that the terrain before your eyes matches the terrain features that you see on the map… We broke out into the open just when I thought that we would, and a big dark peak loomed in the distance just where I figured Snowgrass, the peak west of Big Chiwaukum would be. I confirmed this on the map: yes, that must be Snowgrass. Feeling good about things we set about melting lots of snow, eating a big Easter dinner, and washing it all down with a particularly Rich and Rare brand of whiskey. Phil was snoring the moment his sleeping bag was zipped up, and I checked the map one last time before zipping mine, just to be sure. Yes, of course that is Snowgrass over there. I think the conversation the next morning went something like this: Me: “Man, Snowgrass is so far away. I’m glad we don’t have to go over there.” Phil, still groggy with sleep: “Yeah. So Big Chiwaukum is closer? Where is it?” Me, thinking out loud: “What is that big rocky peak way out in the distance? It couldn’t be…” Both of us at once: “Ohhhhhhhhh, shiiiiiit.” Sure enough, we’d gone up the wrong wooded rib in the dark, and had several ridges in between us and Big Chiwaukum. The peak before us was not Snowgrass, but Pt. 7535. This was starting to look like a long day. Pt. 7535 on the left, Big C on the right. As it turned out, we weren't too horribly far off. We just had to drop a few hundred feet, make a level traverse for an hour, and we were where we wanted to be. We found a place to camp that night, dumped our gear, and started up towards the face. The northwest face has two very nice fall line couloirs on it, the one on the left is steeper, wider, and a bit shorter, around 800 or 900 feet, and the one on the right just seems a little more prominent, being about 1,100 or 1,200 feet. We had hoped to ski both of them using the same boot pack on the second lap, but the couloir on the left had already slid, and our route finding error had eaten some time, so we headed up to the one on the right. I defiantly recommend giving yourself enough time to ski both of them if you put in the work to get there. We skinned up and started boot packing about a hundred feet below the entrance. I had noticed a cornice off to the right up high, and small chunks of ice trickled by as the sun melted the rime coating the wall high on the left side of the couloir. I didn’t want to be in this thing as the sun worked its way around, so we stayed close to the more protected right wall, and traded off kicking steps every time the leader began to slow. We made good time, and once up top all but the rime covered upper 100 or so feet of the couloir was still cold in the shade, so we decided to let the ice soften up while we took a short run down the gentle south slope, and watched crazy ice feathers get blown hundreds of feet in the air, shimmering in the sun. By the time we dropped in the rime was sideslipable, the ice was edgeable, and once we got a bit lower we made turns down something kind of like pow. Once on the apron below the couloir we fired off 1000 feet of high speed turns in what felt like seconds. Good stuff. I brushed off Phil’s suggestion of another lap because I didn’t like the idea of being in there under the sun. We got camp organized, ate, drank some snow margaritas, and started skinning up towards Deadhorse Pass to get a few more turns. Then, from about 500 feet above camp we watched soberly as a massive slide came ripping out of the mouth of the couloir we’d skied hours earlier. Surely the cornice hanging above the right side must have gone when the sun worked its way around, bringing everything soft down with it. Having, as a result of ignorance, seen many sun-caused avalanches up close, some on terrain that I’d only crossed over minutes before, I didn’t think too much about this one. It wasn’t guaranteed to happen, but I knew it could once things warmed up. For Phil though, new to this game as he is, this was a pretty shocking lesson in why speed is safety in the mountains, and why you must pay attention to what is above you and where the sun is. The mountains are strict, drunken teachers who will beat their lessons into you and hold a pair of scissors to your throat while screaming into your ear to get their point across. You don’t forget these lessons and you do your best to follow the rules, and even so they will sometimes throw a chair at you for no reason at all. We sit next to the fire and sip on fruity Gatorade-margs late into the night. We wake at 3am to unforecasted rain, and move to be under the protection of the trees. Morning comes grey and damp. I’m reminded of Alaskan glacier life as we sip coffee and watch the mountains shed. Our plan was to cross Deadhorse Pass and do a tour over to lake Ethel and exit via The Swath, but that all seems crazy now. We drop into the valley floor and the only tracks that we cross on our way to the road belong to a cougar, some bears, and us, from weeks before. What a wild place to have only 15 miles from home. Gear Notes: Bring whatever you want to carry. Approach Notes: Drop into the White Pine from the ridge west of Arrowhead, cross river, head up the Whitehorse Valley, find big Chiwaukum.

Nice job Dan. I don't want to put too much pressure on you, but I start to lose hope in everything when you go a few months without skiing. I'll come visit soon.

1. Went from Alaska to Washington and later to Utah via highways and saw a lot of crazy stuff and met a lot of awesome people. 2. Had countless days that I at the time I claimed were the best days of my life (skiing). 3. The best climb that I did was another failure on the proj that ended 5 pitches up in a storm. 4. Made it through another year. 5. Drank a lot of good beer with good people.

I don't know much about what is new and cool for lightweight touring skis, but have tried a fair number of powder skis in the last couple of years. I agree with what Pete said about dps being too expensive, but really the hybrid version (700 or 800 I think) isn't absurdly heavy. I've also heard good things about the BD line in the last couple of years. The Justice or Amperage should be good backcountry pow skis, the Amperage being a bit more towards the inbounds or slack country side of things. The only BD ski I've tried is the heavy, fat gigawatt, which blew my mind. This year I think I'll get Icelantic Keepers (118 under foot). I prefer to ski powder and ski inbounds about about half the time, and hike or skin half the time. Their Seeker (112 underfoot I think) is more for backcountry pow, but I'm sure would be fun inbounds too. I've found their skis to be surprisingly durible. I don't worry about low snow coverage with them and after 3 years mine have no core shots. I've skied down rocky trails covered in 6 inches of snow. Voile makes some good skis in this category too, but I can't remember much about them. Just my opinions of course.

I'd say that it might be fun and easy in some conditions and hard and scary in others. Most likely though it would be fun and scary and sometimes monotonous and cold and really too warm and there would be hard snow and soft snow and rocks loose and solid and cornices and sun and clouds and you would change your socks and drive home tired and a little proud and a week later you wouldn't think about it much and three years later you wouldn't even be sure if it ever really happened that way or if it even happened at all.

It was clear in Manama last weekend so wa pass is probably fine. More lightening is coming to some areas though so check the forecast. The storm that caused all of these fire was pretty wild.

Today is better than yesterday but it is pretty bad. Doing anything physical outside would do more harm than good for you. Luckily I work up at Stevens (not too smokey) or I would be hiding inside all the time. The NOAA forecast is smoke every day. There are fires everywhere.

Last year when we tried the Pickets enchainment we wanted to have a phone with us in case of emergencies (because on a thing like that there will be no timely rescue from the outside), to check the weather, and to calm the nerves of our families. I went in the week before to try to cache some food (got turned back by moats) and while I was up there tried my phone. Below the Chopping Block I made a couple of calls and had good service. A week later up on the ridge (not very far away), we tried to call and text every day and didn't get a call out. It was a bummer because Sol's wife was really expecting a call. We bailed primarily for lack of food, but the phone thing and uncertainty about weather were some of the straws that broke the camel's back. If the phone worked, we might have seen that the forecast was good for over a week and kept at it. I can think of a few of lives and/or limbs that have been saved in the last 5 years thanks to cell phones. I'd rather carry one now and then than watch my friend slowly die when it could have been avoided. Will Gadd wrote a good blog post about that. It's easy to feel like nothing bad will ever happen to you until something does.

Trip: Colchuck Peak - NE Face Date: 8/25/2012 Trip Report: It’s 9 am when the sun finds me on the boulder field overlooking Colchuck Lake, Mount Cashmere, and the Icicle Valley. I stop to let it warm my bones while I take a drink. It’s surprisingly cold for a late August morning; at least that means the mosquitoes are gone for the year. My stomach rumbles but I can’t eat yet. Down in the valley when the sun was beginning to highlight the upper slopes of the canyon, after I had hid my bike in the bushes and walked to where I would begin hitchhiking, I began to unshoulder my pack when suddenly I pictured my breakfast and lunch sandwiches sitting on the counter at home. I would have to make due with two bars and a handful of energy gels, with the end goal being to get down in time for Heidelburger and anything less would be considered failure. Above me looms the massive, dark North Face of Dragontail. I’ve climbed it many times in a variety of conditions and circumstances, and harbor a respectful dose of fear towards it. I don’t have it in me to set a hand on that face today; instead I walk towards the sunny and smaller northeast face of Colchuck. I’ve already seen and spoken a few words to more people than I would normally see in day, but I suppose this should not come as a surprise seeing as the trail winds through one of the most stunning places that my mind can imagine. The borders between wilderness and civilization blur with the smells of soap and Deet and the drone of conversation on the trail. Plodding upwards I leave that all behind. Standing about 1,600 feet tall, the Northeast Face of Colchuck is a pretty respectable feature, but doesn’t see a lot of attention outside of the spring when its couloirs are getting climbed. The Northeast Buttress probably sees a few ascents every summer, harder cracks to the left of the buttress toe have been climbed but are generally avoided for no particular reason, and before yesterday the Northeast Face had only seen two ascents that I know of (once in late spring and once in winter), though I’m sure someone must have gone exploring up there in the 30 year period between those climbs. While I get out in the mountains every weekend, I work hard during the week at a job that I enjoy and I have not been motivated to climb very hard or make serious plans. I have to fight the urge to spend my Saturdays drinking beer by the river, but Sunday’s beer always tastes better with sore feet. So it was that on Friday afternoon I scanned the Beckey Guide and was reminded of the obscure and apparently very moderate Northeast Face. The original route was climbed in June of 1971 and I don’t know where it starts. Looking at it yesterday I thought it went up the blocky ground to the left of the North Buttress Coulior, but now as I reread the description and look at pictures I think that it might start to the right of the Northeast Buttress Couloir. In any case the grade of 5.2 and mostly easier sounded good to me. As I neared the face I couldn’t figure out exactly where the line was, so I headed for an area to the right of the line that Jens and I climbed in the winter last year where a group of seemingly mid 5th cracks wind upwards for about 500 feet before running into blocky ground and a polished depression that holds snow until mid summer. I was worried about the steepish snow guarding the base of the route because I had only light crampons and no axe, but I found an old picket that I could use to steady myself. A good omen, I thought. Just after crossing the snow and stepping onto a ledge at the base of the route, I was stung by a bee on the tip of my finger. Screw omens, I thought, digging out my first aid kit for tape and Ibu. The first few pitches or so: The route passed slower and with more uncertainty than I would have liked. The first 500 feet were a bit harder than I had been prepared for, but the rock was flawless. I passed over several short mid 5th cruxes, and had to downclimb a couple of times to find an easier way. There are many different options for climbers with a rope. The depression mid face was predictably low angled and rubble filled, but things got interesting again as I tried to meet up with the North Ridge. The slabs led to a melted out couloir that cut left towards the summit, but it was too chossy. The whole upper half of this route would be much more reasonable on a cold day in July (to minimize thawing) when there is still some snow on the face. I headed left around a buttress, headed up a rotten gully and was stopped by a chockstone, downclimbed, headed up the buttress which proved just solid enough, found another all too chossy gully, climbed another buttress, and was on the ridgecrest. The crest was fun, especially considering how different it was from the last time I had been there on a winter night. Looking down the North Ridge from the sub summit: On the summit I felt guilty about breaking the rule that I had set for the day: to not climb anything that I wouldn’t want to downclimb. I’ve soloed some weird stuff in the past and am proud of how I have been able to work though difficult situations and am grateful for what soloing has showed me about myself, but have been telling myself to back off out of respect for my friends and family. It is a powerful and addictive experience. I get to do what I want, when I feel good about it. There is no discussion or arguments about bailing or continuing on. I get to stop and stare at mountains and streams whenever I want for as long as I feel like it. I love covering easy and moderate ground quickly, but when unknown routes and loose rock come into play the game changes. I headed down to Colchuck Col and started up the scramble route on Dragontail. I rested often, feeling my lack of food. As I crossed into the drainage to the south of the summit I was trying to justify not going to the top because I’d already been there this year. It would be pointless, I though. But most things in life are every bit as pointless so I went up for whatever reason. The views were as nice as ever. I crossed the Enchantment Plateau. Around every bend clear lakes and streams reflect white granite peaks and boulders. The afternoon sun and a bit of haze from forest fires gives everything a pink tint. I remembered, as I often do, that I live in one of the nicest places that I know about. Though I’ve been all over the Enchantments, I don’t think I’ve ever done the loop in one trip. I think I’ll try to do things this way more often. Down in the woods I start out running, but badly twist my ankle. Apparently I limp quickly because I continue passing people, occasionally spewing profanity when I step wrong. I know that I will not be down in time for a burger and a shake but still I don’t feel like the day has been wasted. The bike ride isn’t bad and as soon as I step into my house I’m given a margarita and told that my sandwiches are waiting for me in the fridge. It’s a good life. I'll post a topo in the next few days. It's past my bedtime. Sorry for the lack of pictures; I'm up there a lot and have too many pictures of the place that don't do it justice at all. Gear Notes: A picket that I found on the ground was useful, as was ibuprofen. Sandwiches would have been good. Approach Notes: I would approach this in the winter, spring, or early summer.

I was up there on saturday and conditions seemed pretty ideal. I wanted to climb the north ridge but the Bedal Creek approach didn't really work for that route like the guide said it would. I tried to climb the sw face (ridge), but I didn't know anything about it and didn't have a rope so I backed off. The rock was very good and I will go back. Go get it.

Sweet trip! Damn I love that area; aside from maybe the Pickets that might be my favorite place anywhere. That Booker summit register is crazy to see. I can't believe 5 years have passed. Were there more entries on the next page? We did a similar traverse on that trip but climbed Buckner and Sahale instead of Storm King and Logan. The day before we climbed Booker we had made 10 scary raps to bail off of the south side of Megalodon Ridge on Goode, so we didn't actually summit Goode on that trip as the register suggests (though both Blake and I later climbed the ridge). I remember tired, sore legs on the walk over to Buckner. The north side of Booker is so overlooked for what it is. Cool cool cool and congratulations on the recovery.

Looks like one of our friends might be able to get me all the way there. Thanks for the offer sol. I'll see you soon.

I recently got back to Washington from AK and I'm looking for a ride over the mountains tomorrow (Tuesday), or maybe even on Wednesday. I'm not really looking to climb, just trying to get home (and by home I mean my broken down van that is serving as a storage unit at the moment), but I guess I'd be down for a few pitches at Index along the way. Not looking to leave after Wednesday morning because I have to be back on the west side on Friday. I can take the bus to Everett to meet you and can chip in on gas. Thanks, Dan 3six0 708-373seven danhilden@hotmail.com

I don't know shit about basketball, but I do take comfort in knowing that world class athletes like Dan and Eric are out there quietly pushing a mainstream sport into a place that most of us can't wrap our heads around, just because they love it. I know Dan, and that's why he does this stuff. I also know of at least a couple of big budget pro skiers who wish that they could get after it like he does using nothing but his 1980's campervan and two legs. If anyone from the skiing industry is paying attention, you should at least hook this fella up with some skis or boots if he wants to take them from you.

The atc guide and reverso 3/4 both do the job. I have used an old reverso on 7.8mm and up for a long time, and just add a biner to the rope side of the system (or you could just use the fattest biner you could find). The newer ones have high friction mode which pinches the ropes a bit more and make this unnecessary.

Nice work guys! No reason to wait until later in the season when the masses are going to be up there when you can go have it all to yourselves. It is definitely pretty good travel conditions during the cooler hours right now. My first time on the south face (first time in the range) was a pretty pivotal trip for me when I was younger. I think that it was the first time that I realized that not all mountains need to be chossy and dirty.

I just called and the road is still closed. They said they are waiting for the snow to melt. Since we all know that it is good to go, lets follow Dane's advice and keep calling in until they do it.

Nice. I live in Leavenworth and have been riding my bike up the canyon to go climbing since my car broke down and I can't afford to fix it. At first I thought it was a pain in the ass, but quickly realized that it is going to get me in pretty good shape.

Prices reduced, and I'll pay shipping!

Once again spring finds me hungry and unsure what the future holds as I plan another expensive trip to Alaska, so I need to sell some stuff. Prices include shipping. I’ll reduce the cost if you want to pick something up in Leavenworth. Lifelink Shovel- $20 Plastic blade, but it has a lifetime guarantee. I’ve found that it works fine for the kind of snow we have in the PNW, but I got one with a metal blade for Alaskan ice layers. Mammut Stratus (heavy version, not the flash) Large- $70. I got this used in good condition a year ago. I had another one before that that lasted 4 years before the insulation was getting compressed and the zipper broke. The zipper on this one is a bit odd sometimes, so it might need a new one eventually. Great jacket, kept me alive through some interesting wet and cold times. Has some little stains and a tear that was patched on the hood. The dark looking areas near the pockets aren't stains; its just kind of transparent. I would keep using it but was given a new puffy and need money. On the right, just warm enough during a night on an Alaskan summit Grivel G12 old version- $60. No Antibots. They have duct tape residue on them because that’s what I’ve been using to keep snow from balling. Better than nothing. You might want to buy some. These have been filed many times but would still work just fine for moderate ice, mixed, and glacier climbing. Deuter Dreamlight 500 sleeping bag- $40 “They call it a dreamlite? Yeah, you’ll be dreaming pretty lightly in that thing,” said Sol after I told him that despite the low loft this was in fact not just a bivy sac. I wont lie; this thing will not keep you warm in the mountains, but it weights about a pound. It’s rated for 50 or 60 degrees or something. But if you are as poor as I am, sometimes you just have to make due. On a July or August night up high you might get to sleep half the night, which is better than nothing. When used with a puffy in the Stuart Range last week (low 20’s) I got a couple of hours of sleep. Best for people under about 5’ 10”. I’m 6’ and it’s pretty tight. Seirus Balaclava- $10. Someone gave this to me and my head is too big for it (it’s a big head). Asolo plastic boots size 11- $40 (again, that includes shipping) I bought these used and cheap years ago when I was just getting into ice. They were a size too small and I replaced them quickly, so they’ve just been collecting dust. Pretty beat, but they’re fine for volcanoes and people who are just getting into ice climbing and are lacking funds. Maybe Asolo would sell you some new liners for them, otherwise some glue might be in order.

Dang, I grew up in MV and now live in Leavenworth. Guess I'm doing it right! There are jobs in Leavenworth, but you will most likely have to have two or three of them. Many (maybe most) work at Stevens Pass or Mission Ridge (ski areas) in the winter. The forest service and the hotel/food industries are the biggest summer employers. I honestly couldn't pull off living here and climbing so much without my friends who give me work in various industries in the shoulder season. I think I've worked for 5 different companies/people this year alone. I can't say much about Wenatchee, most of us here consider it a necessary evil. Mount Vernon has more jobs, and is 30 minutes away from descent (but not great) climbing, about 1-1.5 hours from great climbing (Index, Goldbar, Darrington) and 1-2 hours away from some of my favorite mountains in the world. The social scene sucks though. Seattle has more jobs still (in theory at least, I lived there for a stint, applied for 70 or so entry level, low pay jobs and got one interview), is 1 hour or so from climbing and skiing, 3 hours from the North Cascades, and has a great social scene.

I've bought a lot of expired gu off of ebay and other places for super cheap. No complaints. In 2007 I bought a box of 100 power bar protein bars that had been expired for a couple of years, and I think that I ate my last one just a year or so ago and threw a handful of them away because I couldn't stand the flavor anymore. Might even have a few left in a box somewhere at my mom's house if anyone wants to push the limits or train for eating in the third world or something.

Did some skiing up near there the other day. The snow pack is more or less normal for this time of year, which is odd because at Stevens Pass it is much more than normal. From a distance it seemed like the ice routes are not in, though the popular couliors do not need ice to be climbed. Floatation is required, and there were predictable wet slides on sunny slopes.