tvashtarkatena

Would it be time to discuss trundling now?

Alan's unforgivable sin was omitting the S Ridge of Custer.

I agree. One should always seriously consider the impact of their "improvements" on the land and on those who follow, and try to keep those to a minimum. The Dome bivvy is definitely over the top (otherwise it probably wouldn't have been worthy of a photo); one side of me was a bit miffed, and the other side enjoyed the architectural luxury of such a comfy site perched so spectacularly. Another pervasive affliction in the Cascades is the proliferation of cairns by folks who can't seem to find their way back down an obvious route without them and who are too lazy to kick them down once they've served their purpose. Note to these people: the rest of us can find our own way up, thanks, and we'd prefer to do it on a mountain that at least appears to be untrammeled. We don't really want to marvel at your string of "I was here" monuments. Don't even get me started on fire rings...I usually take the time to erase those.

Hands may not weigh anything, but time costs something. Even if we were of a mind to destroy the bivvy, which we weren't, we did not have the time to do so. If you feel that strongly about it, by all means, have at it. Lowell, you can destroy all the bivvies in all the popular spots in the Cascades, but consider the unintended consequences: They'll just be rebuilt, increasing the impact, or people will trash a greater number of sites, including vegetated ones. Like it or not, the Cascades are a more heavily used place than in several decades ago. I prefer pristine as much as you do, but let's face it; the Ptarmigan and Dome Peak are now trade routes. Semi hardened camp spots seem to be a reasonable compromise to prevent wider damage in such areas. As an aside; there's now a crevasse running through the middle of your 80's camp. Times change.

BTW, to save weight and bulk for longer trips in the height of summer (33L pack), I don't pack enough ground insulation to camp on snow; a tradeoff which works well for me but maybe isn't for everybody.

I'll let you guys argue this one. We were just passing through.

Trip: Sinister, Dome, and the Hanging Gardens - Date: 8/16/2008 Trip Report: TR: Ptarmigan Traverse (August 10 – 16, 2008) Wolf spider with egg case. Koolaid Lake “I wonder how many people have died of dehydration because they were afraid to drink from streams.” “My only rule is that I don’t drink water with dead cows in it.” “I won’t drink water that’s on fire.” Don and I exchanged bemused looks after our brief encounter with a Canadian/German pair who had stopped drinking during a heat wave because they’d broken their water filter. We assured them that it was probably safe to drink from mountain streams, and that it might even be more beneficial than self inflicted kidney failure. Several miles down river we found the German’s toiletry kit spread out, abandoned or forgotten, on the side of the trail, complete with styling gel, hair brush, hand mirror, fingernail clippers, 3 razors, 3 tubes of sunscreen (that’s gonna leave a mark), and 2 large bars of soap. My nails DID need clipping. No conditioner, though. Damn. The Ptarmigan Traverse attracts all types, including two grizzled curmudgeons with matching blue boots and thirst for the remote and spectacular. Our plan was a good one: exchange car keys with a team of 2 (Ivan and JoshK) headed northward; we drive their rig home, they drive ours. In addition, they would leave mountain bikes stashed at the Downey Creek trailhead. Neither team followed it, but it was a good plan anyway. We never actually connected; the impetuous boyz came, dropped a note and a car key in my mail slot, and left for the woods on Sunday afternoon. Don and I headed out Monday morning for Cascade Pass. Both teams held fast to a hope that the other team would follow through. I predicted we’d meet up with our contrarians at White Rock Lakes. Our first sign that we were not alone on the traverse came in the form of an orange splat of what appeared to be someone’s half digested dinner and 3 cigarette butts at Cache Col, probably the maximum range from the truck for white trash on the traverse. At Koolaid Lake we stumbled on an empty pack and week’s worth of food conveniently yardsaled out for the local fauna, including a liter of what looked to be whiskey. That posed a moral dilemma for Don; is it better karma to refuse this gift from the universe or steal? Or, at least I thought it posed a moral dilemma. “I had no problem taking it, but I thought we might run into them later.” At Art’s Knoll we rendezvoused with our goat chaperone and continued to a beautiful bivvy just beyond Spider Col. Our shadow near Art’s Knoll Our goat milled around until the following morning, hoping for a taste of night water, and finally left us as we dropped through the col to climb Formidable. Don and I took separate, low 5th class gullies on the mountain’s south face to the summit, then scrambled the bunny route down. The summit, by the way, is the far left pinnacle. Complicated route descriptions aside, that’s probably all anyone needs to know to find their way up. We then moved camp to a gorgeous bench just beyond and above Yang Yang Lakes, just in time for the clouds to settle in. Formidable Glacier Hairy, well endowed man leaps over Formidable You never know when Don will drop into a yoga pose. Formidable descent Paintbrush. South face of Formidable Paintbrush. South face of Formidable The following morning we gained LeConte’s summit in one brutal half hour push. The fog broke for ten minutes on the summit. From there we traversed the Dana Glacier and decided to scale Old Guard and skip the far more rotten Sentinal. This fun little peak offered one of the most incredible panoramas in the Cascades. LeConte rendered in rock and cloud Sandwort. LeConte Peak Tiny sedums. West face of Old Guard Above the Middle Cascade Glacier. Spire Point area in the background Above White Rock Lakes. Dome Peak in the background As we descended steep snow to White Rock Lakes, we heard a hoot. Sure enough, it was the boyz, playing a backcountry version of Battleship with rocks and floating lake ice. Amazingly, JoshK had managed to shoehorn his Audi Quattro all the way to the Downey Creek trailhead, bypassing the Suiattle River Road’s two major washouts via narrow ATV trails, eliminating the need to tack on 12 miles of biking to our trip’s end. The moon came up, a deer wandered in, shooting stars began to fall, and the magic continued. White Boyz rocking out at the White Rocks Crab cloud. White Rock Lakes Moonrise over Sinister. White Rock Lakes Nocturnal visitor, with Dome Peak in the background. White Rock Lakes White Rock Lakes is where the truly spectacular part of the traverse begins, but most folks shunt this section and head for Bachelor Creek. Our plan was to climb Dome and Sinister, backtrack, and do the same. Don came up with the idea of carrying over Sinister, descending the East Ridge, and going out via the Hanging Gardens, Canyon and Image Lakes, and the Suiattle River Trail. I’d have to stretch my food for such a significant increase in effort (same number of days), but, never having seen the Hanging Gardens, I was all for it. And stretch I did. I spent the afternoons of the next three days trudging through a hypoglycemic funk, brow furrowed, scowl affixed, surviving the heat by soaking my hat and shirt in streams. It was worth it, but I’m not in any hurry to repeat the performance. Negotiating the Dana Glacier en route to Dome Peak Pine sawyer beetle (monochamus) with hitchhiker. Dana Glacier Banded gneiss. Dana Glacier Rockfall. Dana Glacier We climbed Dome and Sinister the following day, surrounded by fantastic white granite spires and walls. Dome presented no difficulties, but Sinister’s West Ridge was well guarded by a gaping bergschrund. Rather than cross a sketchy snow block, we opted to drop into the moat and rock climb around it’s left side (low fifth) to gain the Dome/Sinister col (snow bivvy only), then took the ridge up directly from the col (some fifth). To our pleasant surprise, the original summit register was still up there. Penalty for shitting all over the 8600’ bivvy: mummification. Dome Peak 8600’ col. Dome Peak 8600’ bivvy. Dome Peak Approaching the summit of Dome Peak H9XyUDDfKMM Descending the Chikamin Glacier, just below the 8600’ col Sizing up the bergschrund below the Dome/Sinister col On Sinister’s summit, sporting a bootied feather boa Sinister’s original summit register By then, we’d abandoned our plan to descend the unknown East Ridge with full packs and a 30 m rope and drop directly from the west side col instead, preferably in the afternoon to take advantage of the softer snow. We terraformed a couple of bivvy spots about 1500’ down from the col. The following morning we dropped down a steep, treed buttress almost to the valley bottom, then traversed several hundred yards of steep, tall timber with a slide alder finish to gain an obvious talus draw to Ross Pass. The fabled Hanging Gardens, with flowers in full bloom and incredible views of Dome and Sinister, didn’t disappoint. If ever there is an Elysian Fields for mountain people, this is it. Dome and Sinister from the Hanging Gardens Once through Totem Pass, the route became familiar to me from previous visits. We camped just north of the Image Lake col our final evening, enjoying an expansive view of the Bath Lakes ridge, with Dome and Sinister as a backdrop. After that, it was just a matter of putting one foot in front of the other, over and over and over and over…. Calling card. Canyon Lake The car! Plagued by heat and hunger, raw toes, chafed crotch, burned lips, a painful boil on my chin, and creaky back, complaining knee, and generally shitty attitude, I was really glad to finally see it. Don turned the ignition key. Dead. No indicator lights, no sound, nothing. Luckily, JoshK had told us about the battery jumper he carried behind the driver’s seat. We got it out. “Wait a minute. This is just an air compressor. I wonder if Josh realizes that.” “Shit. We’ve only got one mountain bike in the car”. The other was stowed in the bushes 12 miles downriver. Don turned the ‘compressor’ around to find a complete set of battery jumping instructions on the opposite side. Yeah, baby. It’s hard to beat finishing up a long trip with some four wheeling in someone else’s relatively new Audi Quattro. Street tires required a certain forward momentum. Don drove, I provided videography. fD2PER1DGKA Having done every variation save Agnes Creek, the Hanging Gardens route is arguably the most spectacular way to complete the Ptarmigan Traverse. Drop JoshK a line beforehand; maybe he’ll loan you his Audi. Gear Notes: Someone else's Audi Quattro

And it doesn't buck too much.

Hopefully it has a scream feature that overrides the buzzing.

Pretty amazing breakthrough. Looks like two guys can fuck this thing simultaneously.

That's not gonna cost FW a thing; I've already seen that YouTube video.

I wonder if the impressive number of military aircraft in McCain's charge that were destroyed (5) might provide voters with some insight as to how much of a steward he'll be for our hard earned tax money. Of course, Daddy was brass, so little Johhny got a shiny new plane every time. Daddy made sure little Johnny graduated from the Naval Academy, too, despite being near the bottom of his class. Yep, a reall self-made man, that one, unlike that silver spoon fed Obama. John's damn near a perfect poster child for the entitled whiners who'll vote for him...in vain. Who better than a calcified party-boy whose phony heroism is based on his spectacular incompetence as a pilot to finally turn the lights out on 40 years of a failed political movement? And hey, how 'bout that Puti Tang? Our boy's goin' for pipes and ports, but I'm sure our little George will keep Georgia safe from the Big Bad Bear. Well, I suppose Lil' Georgie should be flattered that his foreign policy is catching on.

It's interesting that in McCain's own PT109-style movie (Flags of our Fathers, Faith of our Fathers, Fluff of our Fathers?) the director upgraded John to a racy A4 rather than the clunky prop plane he actually flew.

Trip: Copper, Fernow, and Martin, Glacier Peak Wildernes - E face Copper, SW face Martin Date: 8/7/2008 Trip Report: TR: Copper and Martin Aug 4 – 7, 2008 "You talkin' to me?" Holden Lake trail’s reportedly “aggressive” bear “It’s coming right for us! Get behind something!” Don yelled as he hunkered down behind a mountain hemlock. I was in my ‘bug free zone’, a Tarptent, when the first thunderclap struck. It sounded like an eight million ton Hawaiian dancer clacking her coconut cups together, and it was headed our way. I ripped the bug zipper down and dove behind a large fallen log. “Jesus, did you see that tree explode?” It was then that we noticed that our camp, a semi-hardened site, was situated at the base of a massive debris fan; a fact that was obscured by a small grove of trees. The huge blocks that had just off of Buckskin Mountain had come to rest not 50 yards away. “Well, that’s the first time I’ve had to dodge a rock while in my sleeping bag.” So ended an otherwise leisurely day on Copper Peak. The East Face of Copper Peak. This pleasant scramble meanders up on fairly solid bedrock through the broad, green flecked area, then left towards the summit John on the summit of Copper. Goode (right) and Buckner (left) in the background Cfub5oEuW8Q John experiences a bout of loop quantum degradation on the descent Our plan was to climb Copper together, then split up the following day. I would descend to Holden and climb Martin from Holden Lake; Don and John would stay in Copper Basin and climb Fernow. Don on the summit of Copper. Martin in the background QlYFVbi_AlA Name That Peak; a stupidly long panorama from Copper Peak While on the way up to Holden Lake, I surprised a young cinnamon bear with a white patch on his chest. After his initial start, he calmed right down and continued grazing on blueberry bushes. A minute and a half of video cost me about 2,000 black fly bites. I as still wiping off blood smears the following morning. ONzMeZtNoB4 Bear attack! From Holden Lake, I headed straight for the lower snow patch in the photo below, shortcutting the standard Holden Pass approach. More accurately, I was chased up the mountain by the black flies like a squirrel escaping a vacuum cleaner. An aster flecked meadow took me straight to a system of scree gulleys and the aforementioned snow patch without fending off a single branch of alder or mountain ash. I passed the snow patch on the right, ascending slopes and slabs to gain the route shown up solid, 4th class bedrock. To my pleasant surprise there was a fair bit good quality limestone on the route…and some not so good quality limestone up higher. Several hundred feet from the summit I traversed left from zigzagging ledges into a steep bedrock gulley provided an elevator shaft to the summit ridge. The gulley became steeper and more friable towards the top. My route up Martin I mantled onto the crest, fists already clenched and ready for a victory V, looked left, and…oh shit. The summit was WAY the hell over there, guarded by a snaggletoothed ridge of fractured, lichen flaked blocks. Furthermore, in the past hour and a half a few mares tails had transformed a hot, clear sky into a darkening overcast. Oops. Summit of Martin in the distance I traversed several hundred yards of ridge Wile E. Coyote style; hanging my ass over lots of free space on little overhung ledges to avoid the broken ridge crest. Exhilarating, but not really mind bending. At least, not as mind bending as the thought of still being on this shitpile after a good rain made it come alive. In shorts and a T shirt. Rain was already obscuring Glacier Peak. I spent just enough time on the summit to sign the register, stuff some cashews and Jelly Bellies in my jowls, quaff the last of my water, and consider that I didn’t really know the way down. It was a ridge; how hard could it be? It wasn’t, but I was still relieved when I passed a cairn, and further down, a rap sling. At least one other idiot had gone this way, but, more importantly, a bunch of goats had as well. In the end, it turned out to be straightforward and obvious. I was back on the scree by the time a light rain began to fall. Despite the ridge traverse and it’s rotten reputation (understandable, considering its dirt gulley standard route), Martin provided one of the most enjoyable scrambles in memory. Phlox and limestone. Martin Peak Paintbrush. Martin Peak I spent the night in the campground, just up-valley from Holden. The following morning I spent chatting with the Lutherans before tucking into Thursday’s “Hunger Awareness” lunch (white rice, carrots, and bread). As I sipped my 37th cup of black coffee, soft spoken families of lanky, bespecled Minnesotans transported Lake Wobegon to the Cascades. . Black pine sawyer (monochamus scutellatus). Holden Village Olaf, Honorary Mayor of Holden Village, on the dock. He’s all business when it comes to the protocol of a ship's departure… …unless there are boogers to be had The Lady II coaxed a festive attitude from its human cargo. Lutherans, newlyweds, retirees, Minnesotans, people celebrating anniversaries and other rituals of agape, all expressing, in there own ways, what it means to be alive. Fellow passenger on the Lady II Another fellow passenger on the Lady II: female bulb fly (merodon equestris) Which of these toes live in an ivory tower? Celestial send off. Field’s Point Gear Notes: Shoes Approach Notes: Ascended Copper from Holden > Copper Basin Ascended Martin from Holden > Holden Lake

Way to tear it up in a great area. Sweet.

Oh shit, I'm already dead.

Can someone post a link where I can find out how much life I've got left in me? Just trying to get my schedule together.

Still no takers? Wow...of the 500,000 massage therapists here in Seattle, you two must be among the most booked up.

I'll need one of you two highly experienced professionals to help me out here before the stubble starts coming back.

OK, I've painstakingly shaved my balls; they're in desperate need of a massage from someone who really knows the science.

I need a head massage. It's naturally hairless. Either one of you have a near term opening?

One turd, two assholes.

You can both resolve this simply by sucking it.

I agree with KKK here. Those spics, niggers, commies and ragheads don't belong here anyway. Us white people do. It wasn't easy shooting six million buffalo and wiping out a few million injuns, but damn it, we got to it, so now IT'S OUR FUCKING COUNTRY, AND WE'LL FUCKIN' WELL DO WHAT WE WANT, WHEN WE WANT, AND WHERE WE WANT, EVEN IF IT'S WHERE THESE UNGRATEFUL FUCKS CAME FROM. Bombing the shit out of little brown people is the price of freedom, mothefuckers, and as our shit gets more expensive and we get more desperate and pissed off, we're just gonna do it even more, so The Great Unwashed had just better get used to it.

He climbs ice? Cool.