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A selection of beta pics, with some routes transposed. The fancy labeled ones were lifted from Summitpost. Shark's Nose from Overhanging Summit by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Warrior 1 Northeast Face right (best guess) from the NE (Cirque) by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Warbonnet Northeast Face III 5.8+ 6p by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Warbonnet Northeast Face III 5.8+ 6p by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Warbonnet and Plume from Arrowhead Lake by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Haystack North Tower Minor Dihedral III 5.9 10p by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Haystack descent from Deep Lake by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Steeple North Ridge III 5.8 5p by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr East Temple Peak North Prow IV 5.8 A2 8p from Deep Lake by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr

Weeeellll, Josh and I may well be headed back out there late Aug, early Sep for 8 nights in the Deep Lake/Cirque. I'll keep ya posted.

That line does look nice, as does the minor dihedral on the Haystack - an 'almost Beckey' route.

Deeoooooooooooood I've got a folder full of route closeups for Warbonnet, Warrior 1, Wolf's Head, Pingora, Shark's Nose, the Haystack, Steeple, and East Temple Peak for anyone wanting a little beta.

blue grey 60m 10.5 on lowest pitch of Dark Rythm, just climbers Left of Blueberry Buttress. Mean little flake bit it. No time to retrieve. The uzh six pack of your choice for returning this thing - even if its pretty much ready for retirement.

Location: Lower Darkest Rythms, just climbers L of Blue Buttress - she's blue grey, 10.5 x 60, some mange, responds to "fuckin fuckpile". We simply didn't have time to retrieve her before darkness and the trip's imminent end highlighted the prudence of immediate abandonment. If returned you may state your beer of preference. Thank you!

Wait a minute...these boys are sportin' anti-grav undies. That explains things.

Lower handline slabs are pretty wet. Colleen thought it was the sketchiest part of the whole climb!

Be sure to take out the security camera first...from behind.

Jesus H, 3 guys taking down a T Rex mano a mano. Amazing.

Reckon we're chewing our last remaining arm off to get the hell out of there before the tart's alarm clock lights up. Thanks for all the drone practice! Thank Dog for our teenangels that heroin prices are at an all time low - that Oxy shite is EXPENSIVE.

We did manage to slip into Mill Creek, but only had time for a quick swim and visual check out of Tick Farm before getting back in the car. The Burnerroots were pretty smokey, as usual. Thanks all for the beta - should come in handy for next time.

This season Big Sandy Lodge's horsies will take you up to 12 miles in for $175 per 150 lbs minus the pack pannier weight (I've got an inquiry into the exact allowable load) plus $150 for the guide split between the party. A single pack horse is fine with them. I reckon the cost for per person for two well stocked climbers who will pack their own gear back out would total about 175 bucks.

We shot him first then propped him up - Audubon style. I always carry a little CO2 cartridge to pump 'em up a bit in case they flatten out in the process. Actually, one of us shot it with a zoom about 100 times and just got lucky. Must have been my camera with its groovy Leica lens, given the quality of the result. All our shots were hand held. It didn't hurt that the pikas (and birds) there are pretty friendly. Often times we'd have an ouzel, robin, or finch follow us around for a bit. The Dinwoody area probably provides more of an Alpine experience, but hell, we can get that around here anytime we want.

That does make one wonder what the bunny was finally used for.

Next summer we need to get a big enough group together so we can hire horsies to carry 10 days worth of turd precursor and gear into Deep Lake Basin (8 miles of EZ trail) for big fun on the Haystack (OMG, wait til you see this thing, there's a weird grassy walk off ramp running nearly all the way down the center of the mile wide face), Steeple, and East Temple (not a gimme, apparently) before moving the party about 5 mi to make runs at Wolf's Head, Warbonnet, and maybe Warrior 1. I've got the beta on where we can rustle the horsies, who will kindly fuck off once they've dropped our loads so we don't have to eat them. And who could pass up a recon excursion to check out the nearby Little El Cap - one drainage over from Deep Lake? The drive from mine to Big Sandy TH (park yer car at 9600'!) is 16.5 hours - not that daunting, very EZ and pretty scenic. The place is tailor made for an extended rock party for the more pleasure and leisure minded. If yer feeling a bit guilty about not suffering enough, there's plenty of hardman shite to be had as well. Sheeit dog, Pinedale even has a cute little climbing shop these days, and we've already got where to get a Rancher's Breakfast sussed.

Lincoln? Involved? Couldn't be EZier - you just retrace your steps!

Whore! I can take a dump in a department store without a trace, but I still can't aid climb worth that dump.

Trip: Cowboys and Aliens In the American Elysium Date: 7/18-30/2013 The Plume, Warbonnet, and Warrior 1, Cirque of the Towers by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Going to Wyoming from Seattle involves a time change: one hour minus 100 years. Here, things are made of logs, rocks, and whatever bits of steel the pioneers left on their way to Hollywood and Eugene, crudely TIG welded by a guy named Lindsay, but you’d best call him Buck. Everything that happens here stays here but, like the surface of Mars, it remains indelibly etched upon the land for all eternity. If a front yard display of every machine International Harvester ever made is the statement you’re looking for, hire a Wyoman as your landscaper. Sure, modernity has forced its way in – buffalo herds of Dodge Ram 6000s now roam the sage, and Wyoming’s rangers now hail more from Polaris than Texas, but the citified visitor quickly gets the sense that blood, splinters, dirt and shit are still very much a part of an average day in this country. Despite Wyoming’s inherent remoteness, the state harbors two of the world’s most popular national parks. I was 16 the last time I backpacked in Yellowstone, and 21 when I was last stormed off the Grand Teton. Colleen and I rocketed towards Yellowstone, through fires and antelope, past a gauntlet of “50,000 Silver Dollars” billboards and a ’49 International flatbed with “Just Say No To Meth!” painted on the door, with dreams of the American Serengeti, replete with herds of bison, elk, and moose being stalked by wolves and bear – the circle of life unfolding in all its bloody and timeless glory under clear blue Rocky Mountain skies. West Mullan fire, MT by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr West Mullan Fire, MT by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Jump Up, Jump Up, and GET DOWN! Lima, MT by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr “Where can we see a moose?” I asked the ranger, while getting our backcountry permits. “The Tetons” he replied. “We have plenty of bugs, though.” We won a coveted spot on the shore of Shoshone Lake – which we soon found out was essentially the Okefenokee of Inner Mountain West. Wild Kingdom quickly devolved into Naked and Afraid – but the bugs proved as ornamental as they were voracious, which was good, because they were the only wildlife we saw – save some robins, one of whom I managed to accidentally kick off the trail. "Come closer, little friend" Horsefly (Hybomitra lasiophthalma), Yellowstone NP by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Firehole River, Yellowstone NP by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Flame skimmer (Libellula saturata), Yellowstone NP by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Lone Star Geyser, Yellowstone NP by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Cleared for landing: White tail (Plathemis lydia), Yellowstone NP by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Our planned three nights out became one and we headed for the Tetons with its promise of moose and squirrel. Don’t get me wrong; we enjoyed our Yellowstone experience – the playful little geothermals which will one day destroy mankind were interesting – but Yellowstone is basically identical to the mosquito infested lodgepole hell of the Oregon Cascades…plus geysers. We left our semi but probably not all that legal camp at a newish but then recently decommissioned camp site along the Snake River between, but maybe not, Yellowstone and Teton National Parks. The minute we crossed into Grand Teton NP a herd of elk appeared. Then another. And another. OK, we were on to something. Six pointer, Grand Teton NP by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Four pointer. Lima, MT by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Mt Moran, Grand Teton NP by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr After obtaining our free permits at Jenny Lake, we headed up for two nights in the absolutely stunning if oft frequented Garnet Canyon. WAY better than the windy col or depressing moraine, and well worth the extra morning hike when making a run at the Grand. The following morning we got an early start for the Upper Exum on the Grand and Colleen’s first sort of technical alpine climb in perfect weather. Garnet Canyon Camp by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Packing for the Upper Exum, Garnet Canyon by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Climbers on the handline approach to the Grand Teton by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Starting the Upper Exum by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr The Upper Exum's Wall Street by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Somewhere on the Upper Exum by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr The Upper Exum is a huge choss pile scramble punctuated with a few feet of wonderfully solid quartzite cracks and these cool little schist nipples tailor made for fondling, but what scenery! All the upper pitches have cute little names but the only one I could identify for sure was the Friction Pitch, and only because a soloist ahead of me said “I think this is the Friction Pitch”. We bypassed the famous Y Pitch via another gully/crack to avoid a pile up and found ourselves on the summit ridge. On top of the Grand Teton by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr As ‘world’s your oyster’ as the ascent route is, the descent route isn’t all that obvious. Colleen’s still a bit shy about exposed downclimbing, so we opted do the couple of single rope raps to the Upper Col and continue down the lower Owen Spalding. If you find yourself dancing on a sketchy rap stance above a deep, dark, rope eating chimney, you’re in the right place. If you’re anywhere near stainless public art piece that could be used to load a grain ship, you’re not. Go up, climber’s right, and back down to gain the shitty rap anchor your punk single rope ass so richly deserves. Once at the Upper Col, it’s simply a matter of trending to skier’s right of the obvious rock buttress to follow one of several goat trails for several thousand feet of chossy, gravelly alpine goodness so familiar to the Northwestern latte sucker. Handline approach to the Grand/Middle Teton col by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr The Winds! I’ve wanted to go there for decades. After Yellowstone, I checked my expectations at the door. I shouldn’t have. An old dog teaches a young dog new tricks on the drive to the Big Sandy TH by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr STRUT: Greater Sage Grouse (Centrocercus urophasianus) with badass Shaka Zulu tat by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr When we emerged into the Cirque of the Towers I suspected I hadn’t survived the Grand after all and was wandering through the Elysium. Peeping ouzels and chortling robins greeted us to a welcoming carpet of bug free wildflowers interwoven with meandering streams and flat, environmentally responsible slabs. OK, we’d MAY have had a bit too much of the chronic at that point but JESUS, LOOK AT THE PHOTOS. Leaving Big Sandy Lake for the Cirque of the Towers by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Star cluster and asteroids by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Pingora, from Jackass Pass by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Pingora's S Butt - final pitch by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Shark's Nose, Overhanging Tower, and Wolf's Head from Pingora by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Cirque camp 'swimming' hole. Ask your doctor if freezing your balls clean off is right for you. by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Mitchell Peak, Cirque of the Towers by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Moonset over Warrior 2, Cirque of the Towers by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Pika (Ochotona princeps), Cirque of the Towers by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Pingora from camp by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Climber descending Pingora by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Sunrays on Overhanging Tower by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr The weather was fickle and strange to this Earthling – clear night skies, full cloud deck by 10 am, followed by anything goes – lenticulars, sunshine, thunderheads, full overcast, wind, no wind, a light squall now and then. It took a little getting used to, but the camera loved it. Our schedule was an easy one. We climbed the S Butt on Pingora, as you do, followed by the Overhanging Tower – a solo scramble for me as Colleen hung at the Overhanging/Wolf’s Head col nursing some delayed altitude related issues. The Wolf’s Head was scheduled for the following day, but she still wasn’t quite right, so we opted to recon the Deep Lake Basin instead. WOW. What a playground! The Haystack! The ‘going to the mailbox’ approaches! Those acres of flat slabs! I see a pack horse laden with gear in our future. And, as it turned out, it actually rained in earnest that afternoon. Arrowhead Lake from Jackass Pass. Beyond: they Haystack, Steeple, East Temple, and Temple Peaks by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr The Steeple and East Temple Peak from Deep Lake by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Temple Peak. The second ascent of that pyramidal face awaits you. by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr The Winds are not without their difficulties. There is a lot of chossy approach nonsense, the climbs are a long way in, the range is a long drive from nowhere, the bugs can be bad (I hear), the weather is stream of consciousness. Still, it may well be the range I’ve always dreamed of. Kind of like Idaho’s Sawtooths, only a lot bigger, and not quite as pink. Please don’t quote me on that. Sparkling jewelwing (Calopteryx dimidiata), Yellowstone NP by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Grand Teton summit cheeze by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Temple Peak, from North Lake by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr "Mr. Kaplan, your prescription is ready." Pinedale, WY by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr Must...Not...Trundle. Below the Grand/Middle Teton col by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr 8109 Deep Lake Basin, WY 42042 by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr If you believe this TR... by PatGallagherArt, on Flickr

The millions of Californicators that pluralize it, myself included, must really be frosting yer tits for you to play colloquialism cop to a ride share request! Granted, 'sierra' does sound more romantic when planning a sheep date.

Climbing at night to reduce the chances of rock strike is often a good idea but comes at the expense of route finding and, more importantly in our case, seeing the rocks coming down at us. Given the 12,000 freezing levels we had at the time, we chose not to climb in the dark - it paid off, as we were able to see and thus dodge a few well aimed projectiles and weave our way through the Carbon with relative efficiency. There didn't seem to be enough reduction in rockfall at night to justify the cost in visibility - in fact, our biggest strike happened while camped at Thumb Rock at around midnight when a rock rudely burst through the tent door unannounced and struck me in the thigh. Total rule violation. Sun didn't hit the neve (ice, in our case) slopes below Thumb until late morning, so we enjoyed a bit of a grace period there. On the other hand, direct sun tended to melt out the rocks strewn all over the East facing neve slopes of the upper ridge, so the rules switched back in favor of an earlier, darker start up higher. Bottom line is that LR is a shitshow once these warmer conditions prevail. We got by, but that'll be the last time I take that chance.

I recall from two summers ago that the Carbon lured our party up and just East of the ridge toe before we U turned to the NW, dropped a couple of hundred feet or so, rounded the toe and wound our way back up to the schrund at the base of the neve face that leads directly to Thumb Rock on the ridge's Western side. Not a great place to stop for lunch. Missing this U seems to be what screws some parties up late season. The Carbon looks particularly broken up this year, however. Way more broken than in August 2 years ago.

Reminds me of a similar fall I took a while back. I knew I was dead on the way down - no question about it...until I suddenly wasn't. THIS IS INCONVENIENT raced through my mind while I was accelerating towards the stone studded ice face I had been traversing above. I must have forgotten to add DIE to my schedule that day, and I was a bit put out by the interruption. One thing they never tell you is that you may stop, but the rocks keep on coming. I was surprised how instinctively my body reacted. I danced around the two falling boulders above me that caused the fall in the first place all I did was touch one of them lightly), remained upright, landed upright, then shielded my head with both arms from the ensuing hail of falling rock. The frontal lobe's pretty good at getting one into such situations, but once the laws of physics take over, the brain stem seems to be the more reliable advisor. No thoughts of Dog or anger - its all indifference, all the time out there in my world view - my first priority was to spit out the pound or so of moraine grit out of my mouth. With zero saliva, it took a while. Then I checked for protruding bones and blood before finally giving the "I'm OK" to my partner and GF at the time - who stood nearby, white as a sheet, and had yet to be helped across the very same terrain, poor thing. Well, I'd cleaned the route off a bit, so there was that. The ice face had a narrow lip at the top. The gravel I initially knocked down trying to avoid the two boulders had collected into fan - the landing pad that had stopped my 20 or so foot fall. Sometimes, it really is the little things that matter. After falling into a post adrenaline coma, half in/half out of the tent - I awoke sometime in the early evening to an incredible aurora as it raced across the sky at a million miles an hour. One of the stranger days I've had, for sure. At least it was a full one!

I'd like a copy, Rad. TIA.

A true tale of redemption and deliverance after some truly shite route finding! Or, once treed on the rock, exceptional route finding, depending on how you look at it. Probably the only thing worse than rock climbing the lower ridge would be to back off of it. No complicated post mortem required - the decision to abandon the regular route to gain the ridge in favor of charging your light brigade straight up was your Borodino - but when the war was finally over, you wound up being Wellington after all! And who knows how the regular route would have worked out? That live fire exercise is no picnic this time of year, either.