ivan Posted July 7, 2004 Posted July 7, 2004 (edited) Climb: Mt. Stuart-Complete North Ridge - Eastern Variation Date of Climb: 6/28/2004 Trip Report: the crown jewel of our 5 days spent in the range, for the iranian sensation (The Man, Mr. Aarash Yusefzadeh Nagh Sofla) this more than made up for lackluster experiences around lake colchuck. i'd climbed the abbreviated standard north ridge route 2 years earlier, but found the comparision sorta like comparing sounding mrs. elizabeth hurley w/ debauching current day elizabeth taylor. this one was quasi-epical in its ending, some 49 hours after we left the car. we got an early start (630 a.m.) from the stuart lake trailhead, but armed only w/ the beckey trail description for moutaineer's creek, found it slow going getting to the base of the climb. the "climber's trail" was largely theoritical for much of its course from the first switchback past the bog all the way to boulder-fields below the ice-cliff glacier. we found ourselves pulled far uphill for the traversing portion of the approach, boulder-hopping and following intermitent cairns. the description mentioned none of this, but it felt sanctioned w/ all the rock piles (sang-chin, i learned to be the farsi equivalent). i supposed a better, easier trail lay along the banks of the creek below, and figured we'd have an easier time getting back out the creek (if only i knew). stopped for water at the source of the creek and was physically molested by several thousand mosquitoes in the process. estimated blood loss at 2 ounces/minute while filling water bottles for the long climb ahead. planted a ski pole in the dregs of the sherpa glacier and proceeded up the fresh moraine to the eastern side of the north ridge. there is a very good bivy site roughed in here which would work well if your plan was to do the approach in the afternoon, bivy that evening off the wall, then shoot for the whole ridge in a day. as it was, we started climbing around 1 p.m. or so. the first day of climbing was a blast. after a bit of scrambling in boots to get on the ridge, the first pitch delivered excitement. 5.fun stuff into a 5.8 narrow slot. aarash w/ his little pack got uncomfortably stuck in the constriction and had to take off his pack and put it on a leash. we hauled the much larger pack up this pitch and i was unashamed in grabbing gear while seconding in order to maintain a serious pace. the highlight for me was leading the 5.8/9 crack, which got my undivided attention for awhile, imitating elvis above a nut i mananged to pull w/ my foot while climbing up the spicier portion of the crack. i breathed long and loud on the ledge above while hoisting up the petulant persian. the rest of the climbing this day was notable for its 5.fun nature...continously steep but always easy, i found it much more invigorating then the "classic" ground of the standard route, and largely free of "bullshitious" debris. towards the bivy notch though, night began to make its intentions known, and the route became a bit more dank and manky. we bypassed a good bivy site for 2 around 8 p.m. becauase i was certain the more luxorious accomdations of the Big Notch were just a pitch of so above. by 9 i was feeling a bit frantic, alarmed that in my optimism i might have missed this seemingly obvious place only to suffer us to a shitty, precarious bivy. but w/ the waning rays of the sun now setting behind the fang-hills of the west, i pulled over a rise to a large snow mound and discovered clear signs of the standard route's sleeping area, which appeared to be mostly covered in sloppy snow. so happy was i to have a place to sleep that night, that i didn't bother hoping over the eastern side of the supposed "crest" of the notch to discover multiple sites, side by side; instead, we slept a few feet lower, well spaced out. aarash's bivy was spartan in comparision to mine; i bedded down in a down jacket, my goretex thrown over my legs, thrust into my backpack and covered all w/ a bivy sack, rock'n out to mp3 tunes. aarash slept on the rope, in a bivy sack w/ just his clothes on, w/o complaint. oddly, i discovered a full 60 meter red rope abandoned at this spot, and used it for padding that night. the next morning we got an early departure after a minimalist breakfast. luckily, it was warm enough sleepign w/ a bottle of snow to yield a half liter of water for our morning meal. the climbing here was familiar. aarash started by skipping part of the ridge, going east of the notch, but then i took over the lead and we simul-climbed all the way to gendarme. the route here was as a i remembered; fun, flat, easy, solid. still, it took time and it wasn't until a good while later than we stopped for lunch at the base of the great gendarme. indecisive while approaching it, we agreed upon reaching this sinister tower that rapping away from it was a pussy's choice. being the better climber of the 2 of us, the Tiger of Tehran took us up the 2 5.9 pitches...i cheated savagely to wrest myself up the second w/ no qualms, shaken enough by the experience as to allow my psychological demons to make my next lead (the 5.5 beckey recommended exposed pitch up and left) less than convincing. after climbing up and over the gendarme, we noticed that time could be saved by staying relatively level and going right from the top of the second gendarme pitch instead of the way we did it (the nelson/potterfield book appears to differ w/ beckey for good reason here) the last bit to the summit was the most disagreeable bit of climbing along the whole ridge. the rock was heavily fractured up here, the ledges sandy and wet. of course we unroped for the last part above the gendarme, only to discover there were still a few feet of surprises to go. after a bit of a scare, when i almost loosed a landslide of stones ontop of aarash just a few feet behind me, we made it to the top. we ate our dinner there at 5 p.m. and enjoyed the lonely spot. there was no one around and we'd been entirely alone for going on 2 days, from the trailhead to there. a bit apprehensive about the descent, which i'd never done via the sherpa, we set off after 30 minutes or so. the top of this mountain just seems gigantic, and a seemingly never-ending stretch of downclimbing and scree traversing ultimately found us just before the peak of sherpa, looking down a long and not exactly inviting snow coulior. i put my crampons on and aarash jerry-rigged the front plates of his g-12s to his walmart-brand boots (this is, incidentally, the same man who climbed denali w/o down jacket or overboots). we proceeded backwards down the steep coulior to just above the 'schrund, which we noticed was very fuck'n deep indeed. we were able to traverse above it and cut back between two large cracks though...i wouldn't imagine this being possible any longer this season now. the rest was a high speed burn back to the tiny-vampire hell of the creek (i should mention here the bugs were bad the whole trip, including oddly enough the bivy notch, which was infested w/ mosquitoes). we entered the ominious wood as night descended though, around 930, and despite our best intentions by tikka light quickly lost the "official" way and began 'swacking in the darkness. at first we made good time, keeping the roaring torrent on our immediate right hand side we felt well oriented and the distance to the car rapidlly shrank. but then hell set in; the river slowed and began ponderously oxbowing, the bugs went fuck-crazy frolicking amidst the melee, wall after random wall of felled tree, sometimes 3 trunks high, barred the path, which took on that disheartening quality of sameness, every stump looked familiar, every fern previoulsy trampled and all progress was lost. aarash was mad to make it back to the car. i did the mental aritmetic: 1. i was very tired 2. i could give a fuck where i went to sleep, so long as i could go to sleep sometime soon 3. at the rate we were going, we'd arrive at the car around sunup, at which time we could just as easily make it there much faster if we just went to sleep now. aarash fought it, but as my non-compliant pace slackened w/ each frustated utterance of the fuck-word, he had to give in. we bivied on a large slab beside our soaked socks and boots. i slept angelically, my last thoughtless act to give aarash my mp3 player to salve his agrieved soul. i awoke in the early light at his insistence...he'd not slept, shivering after taking off his shirt, to cover his face from the incessant aerial attack of the mozzies. his face was a map of verdun, circa 1916, an embattled shell zone of a 1000 angry red craters...guess that boy just don't agree w/ 'squito spit. at least w/ the feeble sun we could make out the proper course, and off we went after eating the last of our meager rations. the coup de grace of the deproach was our attempt to ford the creek that tumbles down from stuart lake, above the bog where the mountaineer creek cuts off. penned in by the steep, overgrown wall above the bog, we went above the noisy tumult of the falls and tried crossing at a sort of log-jam lake. aarash went first, out on a rotten log anchored to the shore. half-way across, he faced a desperate, comical game of leaping from floating log to floating log. he tried and failed admirably, making it 2/3 of the way across the stream before going in up to his knees. my turn. yeah. fuk this kid i should just find another way. there is no other way close by. fuk. well here goes. i discover the rotten log has been snapped in half by the force of aarash leaping off it. i outweigh him by girth and gear a good 100 pounds at least. i hop to the first floater, sink 8 inches, make a half-assed leap to the next then plunge waist deep into the freezing water, boots instantly turned to buckets, my pack just an inch above the waters edge. too annoyed to make my complaints vocal, i discover i can't even pull mysself to the far shore, so hemmed in by the logs i am. groveling and cursing, my eloquence rediscovered, i finally make the blissful "land of trail", knowing i must be back at the car soon. we wring out our socks, and within 10 minutes have found the hikers trail. the last hour is a blur; goaded by hunger and swamp-foot, we each retreat into our little world, i listen to sleepy tunes on the mp3 player and put a mountain daisy in my chest strap, to make the whole retreat a bit more gentlemanly. my first encounter w/ people is a couple of ladies hiking up to colchuck; i meet them about 300 yards shy of the parking lot and am too surprised to say anything before they pass me by. sitting around the car is sweet bliss. feasting on car food, smoking forbidden substances, and gawking boyishly at the 3 fahq'n hot chicks who've just pulled up and begun packing for a ski trip down the colchuck glacier, i make a final amusing mistake. made sublimely stupid by the intersection of carcinogens and 48 hours of exhortation, overwhelmed by a tidal-wave of gloriously unfocused libidic impulse, i drive off leaving my foam pad on the ground. no worries down in l-worth at der waffle haus, till i recall my medicinal herbs are rolled up in the pad. up the road we race, the persian not comprehending my motives at all: the pad, gone; those 3 impish, aching and scantily-clad beauties, gone too; my humble herb-stock, lost. in despair, i begin to drive off, only to spot the ziplock bag just before my tire rolls over it. i yank the wheel to the side, the sun breaks through the thunderheads which have been pouring down, i go out to collect my fair-haired child and in that little place, in that little time, i know what it means To Be Complete. Gear Notes: a full rack brought, coulda cut the nuts down to only 6-7 though, and the cams to only 6-7 too. used cramps for the sherpa descent and was glad to have em. mp3 made the bivy's easy. Approach Notes: i still don't understand what the fuck was going on in mountaineer's creek Edited July 8, 2004 by ivan Quote
Pandora Posted July 7, 2004 Posted July 7, 2004 I'm especially impressed that you managed to make this climb on a date that hasn't occurred yet Quote
CascadeClimber Posted July 7, 2004 Posted July 7, 2004 Approach Notes: i still don't understand what the fuck was going on in mountaineer's creek Words most often heard from people contemplating this approach: "I've done it xxx times, but this time I know exactly where to go." Words most often heard from same people just getting back to the trail: "Well, we kinda fucked that up again, but next time we'll know exactly which way to go." Quote
ivan Posted July 8, 2004 Author Posted July 8, 2004 I'm especially impressed that you managed to make this climb on a date that hasn't occurred yet whoops...well i am a bit of a space case...i live in multiple dimensions simula-faq'hn-taneously Quote
ivan Posted July 11, 2004 Author Posted July 11, 2004 pictures! the lower north ridge route goes right up the center of the image. the sweet bivy site is right at the top of the moraine the 5.8/9 pitch...i got a little cranky towards the end. sometimes i take life too seriously... from the belay atop the first pitch of the gendarme...2 climbers came up from below (visible on the knife ridge) and did the standard wuss-out standard summit cheese downclimbing the sherpa at the end of the day...a long night of 'swacking mountaineer's creek lay before us Quote
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