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Disclaimer: if you're looking for beta, you'll probably be disappointed by this TR. If youre looking for an emo introspection on soloing, then perhaps you’ll be amused… I awoke without an alarm on Tuesday morning. I stumbled around and gathered my things. Two skinny 30m cords, ice tools, crampons, one ice screw, 2 carabiners, some snacks.. I loaded my pack and headed up to the pass around 8am. I left from a nearly vacant lot at 8:40; not exactly an alpine start. But with freezing levels down to 500ft and clouds in the forecast, I wasn’t too worried about timing. I skinned up the thinnest approach to Source Lake I have ever seen in February, my skis sliding out from under more than I would’ve liked. My normal skins for these skis are having glue issues, so I used 77mm skins on my 95mm skis, not ideal.. As I skinned, I thought back to the last time I attempted this route, which was 9 years prior with my college girlfriend. We drove down from Bellingham and accidentally climbed a full pitch up Bryant Peak before realizing that we were climbing the wrong mountain. Hopefully today will go a bit better, I thought to myself. As I skinned through the valley, the morning fog lay like a wet blanket. Cold, wet, quiet. I skinned up from Source Lake; there was about an inch of snow in the skinner, which made the skinning a bit nicer than the ice down low. I caught a glimpse of Chair through the trees as I crested above the fog. Dang it. Looks like no ice on the upper pitch. Oh well, maybe it wasnt meant to be. I can still take a look at the North Face, or maybe climb the lower pitches of the NE Butt, then bail. I passed a few other skiers. I was actually enjoying being alone with my thoughts, so I moved quickly, eager to get back to some silence. I finally got up into the sun and was fully free of the fog. I felt the humidity drop and my sweat start to dry, one of the best feelings. The feeling was short-lived. I booted up the thumb tack to the ridge where clouds had again blown in and brought light snow. Above the fog... View of the route. I meandered along the ridge and finally got a view of the North Face, no good, no ice, just snow on rock. Not today. I ended up at the base of the NE Buttress of Chair without even really stopping to consider if and why. I looked up, and the rocks above had a smear of ice that looked fun to climb. As I transitioned from skinning to climbing, I briefly pondered my options and how I was feeling. Soloing requires confidence. But too much confidence will get anyone into trouble. It's a delicate balancing act. Today, I had the confidence. I started up. The ice was thin. Ranging from a quarter inch to 2 inches in “fat” spots. The movement of climbing sub-vertical ice and rock is addictive. Delicate taps with the tools, finding edges for the crampon mono points, ice and rock, perfectly mixed. Nothing feels better than flowing through that terrain. Soon enough, I had “flowed” my way into a pickle. I looked up and realized I had blown past a ramp to the left I should have taken. Above was vertical rock that I had no business touching, so I awkwardly scraped my way down a bit and transitioned left over the ridge. I was not psyched about this little blunder. The downclimb had some scary moves that I did not enjoy. I contemplated bailing. Confidence gone. I knew the upper pitch wasn't in any way, what's the point? This is all so contrived… The thin climbing right off the bat, not much ice but it was good. I continued moving upward through ice and rock and got back into the flow on this slightly easier terrain. The ice was mostly an eggshell over powder on rock. The movement was a 50/50 split between scraping tools or ‘pons looking for a positive edge out of sight beneath the snow, or gentle sticks in snice. I topped out the lower pitch feeling good. I looked up at the upper “ice” pitch with no ice, and I looked at the trees to my right that I could rap down and be done. Oh well, I’ll just keep going up. I’m curious if this middle snow slope is skiable anyway. Eggshell ice over rock. Looking up at the "ice" pitch on the right and the ramp I took (but would not recommend) on the left. I booted up the snow slope, moving quickly. Only a few inches of boot pen made for efficient movement. As I approached the upper step, I considered taking the plum line that had a few ice smears, or traversing out left to what appeared to be lower-angle snow and rock. At this point, I felt like I was way off the deck and had already made one mistake, so I took what I perceived to be the easy option to the left. I climbed out of the steep snow into the steeper rock and quickly regretted my decision. No ice, very few positive edges, not ideal. I scraped my way up it, crampons skittering on smooth rock; it felt a bit harrowing. There was one lone tree at the top of these rocks, and when I finally grabbed a branch, I breathed a sigh of relief. I pulled myself up over the tree and booted to the top, relieved to be done with the climb. I wandered around the top, went to the true summit, and looked for my descent. Nothing looked like the photos I had looked at. Eventually, I found the correct gully based on a dead tree at the top, which I recognized from a photo. The correct gully was a little bit back down the climbing route from the summit(s). The descent gully was nearly dry, and I face-in down-climbed down nearly the whole thing. It was slow and tedious, and a few spots felt about as thoughtful as the route up, except there were a few smears of solid ice yielding good sticks in this gully, unlike most of the route up. I got down to the rap station and joined my 2 30m cords for a 30m rap. I finished the rap and thought that what I had just rapped seemed a lot easier to down climb than what I had down climbed to get to the rap anchor… Up the final slope. Looking down the descent gully. A slow transition at the bottom of the descent gully ensued. Coil ropes, harness off, crampons off, skins off, skis on, boots locked, finally ready to ski. The ski down yielded a few good turns. Hop turns up high with dust on crust and rather flat light. Down lower, the snow got softer and deeper, and the light improved. A few good turns later, I was into the skied-out refrozen debris over Source Lake. I boogied down that and enjoyed the icy luge back to the car. C2C was 4:20. Would be fun to try to go fast in better conditions! A few nice turns on the exit. A few parting thoughts. I really wanted to do some technical climbing and forced it a bit. The solo headspace pendulum of caution vs confidence was a bit tilted toward confidence today. We shall recalibrate a bit moving forward and try to find the elusive balance. This route probably needs more freeze-thaw after getting baked in the hot sun for weeks. It sure does have a lot of south for being the supposed “NE” Butt.

Does anyone have anyone suggestions for good climbs in North Cascades National Park off highway 20 that are safe to solo??

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Trip: Slesse Northeast Buttress - 2nd Winter Ascent - Date: 4/6/2015 Trip Report: This is a full month late, likely a by product of my brain exploding after my Patagonia trip as well as this climb I am about to describe. It is now undeniable that I have some kind of addiction to climbing Slesse Mountain. I have climbed the mountain more than 10 times by at least five different routes both solo and with partners. I think the main reasons for this are that: 1: It is ridiculously easy to access from the East. 2: The East flank of the mountain is hands down the raddest face in the area. 3: I can be a creature of habit. I had always wanted to climb a big route on Slesse in the winter, and after learning to 'really' mixed climb in the Canadian Rockies it became even more of a priority. I spent most of my winter in Patagonia, managing to bang off some great climbs in the Torres, including a solo ascent of the beautiful Cerro Torre. As I made the journey back north to Canadia a bit of sleuthing had me convinced that Slesse must be in the 'condition of the century' for winter climbing. I tried to find a partner to attempt Navigator Wall, but with only one or two days of stable weather remaining it was too short of notice. Listening to an interview with Stevie Haston on the airplane, I heard him describe his free solo ascent of The Walker Spur in winter which got me psyched, so I began to formulate a new plan. I had climbed the Northeast Buttress of Slesse too many times in summer, including a speed ascent in one hour and fifteen minutes. But in winter the line would certainly provide a completely new challenge. The line had only seen one winter ascent, in 1986, which required several bivouacs as well as aid on the upper headwall. Because I knew the route intimately I was able to slowly convince myself that I may be able to free solo the route in winter, for the 2nd winter ascent and first free winter ascent. It seemed a bit of a lofty goal, so I brought along an 80 meter 6mm Esprit cord and some pins and wires to bail with 'just in case'. John Scurlock photo. Isn't it just irresistible?! My sister, who lives in Chilliwack dropped me off at the start of Nesakwatch Creek FSR and I briskly walked to the Memorial Plaque beneath the mountain where I spent the night. I awoke at 4am the following morning, and after spending nearly an hour huddled in my sleeping bag I mustered the psyche to get a move on. At 5am, I left the memorial and approached directly through the basin beneath the mountain. The snow conditions were generally quite good, and a short WI2 step soon brought me to the slightly threatened slopes beneath the toe of the Buttress. I veered left here, joining the standard summer approach through the pocket glacier cirque. The upper section of the cirque still held a surprising number of deep crevasses, likely caused by avalanche debris from the East Face forming deep craters on impact. I crossed over several bergschrunds on the right hand side of the cirque then climbed directly up to the bypass ramps leading to the Buttress crest. This section, normally a third class ledge walk in summer, was a surprisingly steep and exposed traverse on snow. As I neared the crest the angle and exposure kicked back and I quickly made my way upwards on good snow to the first 5.8 rock pitch. This pitch was surprisingly easy in the conditions I found it in, the air was just warm enough that I could climb barehanded, as long as I stopped every two minutes to re warm my numb fingers. The pitch only required a few minutes of careful climbing and soon I was back on steep snow and neve, now accustomed to the exposure. Dylan Johnson photo of the route, taken the day before my solo. Line shown in red. On the traverse into the Beckey Ramps I climbed slightly too high and had to make a very exposed down climb to reach the correct ramp on the north face. The ramps were coated with perfect ice and neve, making for fun, fast and easy climbing with a spectacular view down into the 'Heart of Darkness'. "This is rad", I said out loud. The ramps led me back onto the crest of the Buttress and the second 5.8 rock pitch, which looked to be slightly more mixed than the pitch lower down. I removed my gloves again, and was able to climb about half the pitch with my hands before transitioning to proper mixed climbing. Finding a thin crack for my right tool, I danced over leftwards with my feet on small patches of ice until I could reach a thin veneer in which to place my left tool. The pitch felt around M5 in difficulty, and above the climbing slowly eased off until I reached to huge bivy ledge at mid height. At the bivy ledge I took a break to eat some snacks and assess conditions on the upper headwall. The steepest pitch appeared to be fairly free of ice, but above, where the angle relented slightly, the rock was decorated by a patchwork of thin white ice. It looked interesting to say the least. The snowslope leading to the headwall was relatively boring and does not need much description, nor does the WI3 runnel I took to bypass the first 5.8 pitch on the headwall. The 'rotten pillar' pitch was straightforward enough and soon I was on the crux, stemming in crampons around detached flakes in a corner. On top of one of these flakes I paused to remove my crampons and warm my hands before embarking on a slightly insecure bit of climbing on downwards sloping holds. I traversed back right to a small roof which I passed on juggy finger locks, and now at the apex of the small overhang I was able to peer upwards to the iced up slabs I had observed from below. It was clear I was going to need my crampons again. I placed a large nut and clipped myself to it for security, then gingerly stepped into my crampons one foot at a time. I mentally rehearsed my next sequence as it appeared from my airy stance, then removed the nut securing me to the wall and committed. I switched my feet on a good hold and stepped up and right onto the slab. With my frontpoints set in small divots I balanced upwards, holding a small edge with my left hand for balance. I uclipped the ice tool from my right side and reached upwards for a small bit of ice pasted to the wall. Now at the edge of my comfort zone, I gently tapped the tool twice against the ice until the first two teeth sunk in. I tested the tool carefully, then took care not to make any sudden movements while I slowly searched out higher edges for my feet. The edges I found sloped slightly downwards but my frontpoints found purchase enough to balance higher still. I carefully pulled out my left tool and placed it in thin but good ice above bringing me to a comfortable stance on a ledge. The crux now behind me, I allowed the mental RPM to decrease steadily until I was ready to continue. Jim Nelson photo from their 1986 ascent. This shows the crux pitch with the same patches of thin ice that I encountered. As I climbed excellent mixed terrain above I could really admire my wildly exposed position on this beatiful mountain. The whole buttress stretched out below me, black stone stained white with snow and ice. My tools found purchase on the well featured rock and the climbing gradually eased off pitch by pitch until I crested the final summit ridge and found myself standing in the sun. Eating a bar with the summit register in hand, I wrote, "Northeast Buttress - 2nd winter ascent. March 9 2015. Very exciting". The crux pitch was likely delicate M6, perhaps M5+, but someone will have to do a second free winter ascent to verify. The west side of the mountain was surprisingly warm compared to the shady, iced up North face, but the ledges and gullies were still covered in snow and neve making for a quick and pleasant descent. Descending the scree slopes on the Crossover Pass descent was nicely facilitated by the well settled snow and I was rewarded with a spectacular view of the route I had just climbed. After stumbling down the steep wooded trail below, I arrived at my bivouac site and ate a candy bar before packing up my equipment. Walking the road back towards civilization I pondered my options. I had no ride back and considered walking the fity kilometers to my sister's house through the night. I thought back to the ascent I had just made, it's often surreal when a long time dream, like climbing Slesse in winter, glides into the present, then into the past. I knew that my mind needed a break, I needed to relax and digest the adventures of the past months. As I thought these things, an animal control vehicle pulled up to offer me a ride. The driver was a likeable guy named Mark and we chatted, mostly about travelling, until he pulled up to a bus stop in Chilliwack and bode me farewell. A bus arrived a moment later and soon I was just a block from my sister's home. Her husband Robert saw me walking down the street through the window and came to greet me at the door. They welcomed me in happily, and at 6:30pm we all sat down to a delicious supper. Parting shot, taken from a plane that flew around the mountain the day of my solo. If you zoom in on a high res version my track is visible bottom center. Gear Notes: Lightweight bail kit! Approach Notes: Super chill relative to radness of climb.