Adams Glacier on Mount Adams

June 29, 2014

*Kelsey, checking out a large crevasse with a thin bridge*

Yvon Chouinard once said “it’s not an adventure until something goes wrong.” I found myself repeating this quote to Kelsey when we found ourselves on Forest Road 2329, about 2-3 miles or more from the Killen Creek trailhead, looking at an impassable section due to snow that had just high-centered a jeep in front of us. That theme repeated itself throughout the weekend and an adventure we certainly had.

Armed with a GPS, we walked down the road a mile or so before turning into the woods and "making like a bear" through the forest. A little over a mile of bushwhacking brought us to the actual trail. While we'd cut off two big legs of a triangle and likely saved ourselves about 3 miles, we were completely soaked from tramping through the wet woods.

The rest of the approach went without issue, save for the wind and rain which stirred up as we got above 6,000 feet. Another team of 3 was setting up camp at 6,500 feet, saying that the additional 400 feet to high camp wasn't worth it in the rain and close to zero visibility at times. We were soaked already, so we decided to brave it. It wasn't any worse up at the high camp, so we set up our tent quickly, melted some water, and dove into the tent in a wet heap.

Morale was low and pretty much everything was damp to soaking wet, but we warmed up with a hot dinner and quickly settled in to try and get some sleep. It was about 7pm and we had alarms set for 3:30am. It rained that night. It rained a lot. I woke up a few times and cursed my decision to bring the Firstlight instead of the Eldorado.

At 4am (I must have hit snooze in my sleep), we awoke and Kelsey took a look out of the tent. We were completely socked in. In the minutes that followed, we almost bailed, but then I took a look outside and saw things clearing up, and then the party of 3 walked by. We had to give it a shot.

The party of three ahead of us on the Adams Glacier

We packed quickly and were on the move at around 4:45am. It took about an hour to cross the moraines and reach a flat area at about 8,000 feet. Things were clearing up at this point, with the clouds pinking up nicely, and we started putting our gear on when I let out an "oh, shit." My new aluminum crampons came in a nice little black bag, which I'd left at the tent in the dark of the morning. We briefly debated what to do. I couldn't bear the thought of bailing with the weather clearing and being so close after our crappy night. I decided to jog back and retrieve them. 1,100 feet and 1.4 miles down and back up and we were back in business in an hour, but Kelsey's wet feet had gotten pretty cold while waiting, despite bundling up in both of our parkas and walking around to keep warm.

The route itself turned out to still be pretty filled in with snow, which had been rained on overnight and re-frozen, so it mostly involved side stepping and front pointing with little penetration. It was secure enough that we didn't place any protection and moved quickly, only stopping every so often to chop out steps to rest our burning calves. We never stopped for long, though, since our feet were still soaked and would get quite cold when standing still.

There were a few sporty crevasse crossings, including one I crawled across for fear of breaking through a thin snow bridge. Beyond that, it was smooth sailing and we quickly reached the upper slopes at about 10:30am.

The North Ridge descent was not bad at first, but quickly turned to verglas-on-rock treachery. As soon as we spotted an exit gully to the North, we pulled a mixed move or two, down-climbed steep snow, and then romped down the snowfield, likely saving ourselves hours of painstaking descent on the ridge.

The rest of the descent was without incident and we were back at the car by 4:30pm, feeling somewhat dumbfounded that we'd successfully done the climb despite all of the issues we'd encountered. In retrospect, I think this route would be more fun later in the season. I was hoping for some real alpine ice on the way up and think the ridge descent would have been better with less rime and verglas.

Direct East Buttress on S Early Winters Spire

June 8, 2014

After our long snow slog on Mount Rainier last weekend, Dale and I were both looking for a higher technical climbing to approach ratio. With warmer temperatures forecast, Washington Pass was a natural option. We did some easier routes on Saturday (South Arete and Southwest Rib), had a great evening in Winthrop, and then drove back to the hairpin on Sunday morning.

The approach was all covered in snow and we did it in mountaineering boots, with crampons and one stubby axe ready just in case. It took about an hour and a half to get to the route and we transitioned here to rock shoes with all of the gear in the pack, which ended up weighing north of 30 pounds. The first bunch of pitches were pretty straightforward. Pulling layback moves on the 5.9+ and 5.8 bits with the pack on was pretty strenuous, but it went without too much trouble. Dale led us to the sport/aid crux where I tried my hand at the slab and nearly made it past the slab crux before aiding my way through.

The climbing was pretty good, but it was the position and view which were special. A few more pitches on the East Face brought us to a memorable top-out and third summit of the South Early Winters Spire in two days. The subsequent descent was the fastest I've ever come down snow on foot. It was a perfect consistency and we jogged our way down to the car for victory pizza.

*Sunrise on the ice cliff shortly before the ice step*

Ptarmigan Ridge on Mount Rainier

June 1, 2014

Dale and I had been discussing an early June attempt on Ptarmigan Ridge since our trip to Patagonia together in January. With a stellar forecast and a great spring of climbing under our belts, we set up our strategy. We didn’t have an extra car for a shuttle and we only had the weekend since Dale was flying in from CA, so we decided to start and finish at the White River Campground and pack the approach from there to high camp in one day.

We left the car at about 6am on Saturday morning with a pretty light setup (light tent, 30-degree down bags, 3 screws, 3 pickets, 4 pins, a few nuts, and 3 cams; no skis or snowshoes), and quickly booted to St. Elmo Pass in a little over 2 hours. From there, we crossed the Winthrop on a relatively firm boot pack without roping up, and continued traversing to the camp on Curtis Ridge in about 4 hours from the car. There was a ton of helicopter activity around Liberty Ridge at this point and we hoped it was a training exercise. It wasn’t until Sunday evening when we learned what had transpired. Terrible, sobering news.

As we roped up and dropped onto the Carbon Glacier, the temperature had risen and the sun was exceptionally strong. We aimed for a weakness WSW of where we got onto the glacier and gained the upper shelf after wading through knee-deep snow and crossing a number of crevasses. From there, we went through a large bowl and turned NW to get around the rock band. This was where the snow conditions were the worst. We took turns post holing to our thighs at times. Thankfully, some old avalanche debris was more solid and the rest of the way around the rock band was easier. On the NW-facing slopes, the snow became “hot pow” as Dale jokingly described it, which was much better for booting. We quickly ascended the rest of the way to camp below Ptarmigan Ridge at 10,300 feet by 3pm.

The rest of the afternoon and evening were perfect. We ate a geriatric dinner at 4pm, took a nap until 8pm, had a second dinner at sunset, and fell asleep again with alarms set for 1am. In the morning, after drinking coffee and packing up, we were moving by 2am and could see a few different sets of headlamps on Liberty Ridge across the way.

The snow was a perfect consistency for fast climbing—firm, but secure for steps. We traversed down to ~9,800 feet, crossed the bergschrund, and began ascending the ~45-degree slopes. From the photos we’d taken, it was clear that we should hug the cliffs on our right all the way to the hourglass, so route-finding was pretty easy. The hourglass was steep, but secure and we made it to the cliff band above at about 4am, right as the alpenglow was starting. We had remained roped together to this point, but hadn’t needed to place any protection.

At the cliff band, we chatted out whether to go left or right. From our beta searching, the cliff band on the right looked short-lived, so we decided to make it more interesting by going left to the ice cliff. We pitched out an easy ice and steep snow pitch to a rock outcrop on the right, then headed up to the ice and traversed right toward a good-looking ice chute. From there, with a great picket belay, Dale led the ~AI3 crux of about 30m with the three screws we’d brought. It was super fun and gorgeous with sunrise lighting up the ice cliff.

From the top of the ice cliff it was a long slog to Liberty Cap. We stayed roped for a while and then put the rope away as we continued up the lower-angle slopes with a rime crust, reaching the summit by 10:30am. We met a couple who were just finishing Liberty Ridge and chatted them up a little while melting snow at the summit before beginning the descent.

The descent to Camp Schurman was long and a bit painful, given the soft snow, but was otherwise uneventful. We post holed to our thighs on our way to the Interglacier, glissaded down as much of the steep slopes as we could, and then trudged out the rest of the way to the car.

While the route was fun and absolutely gorgeous, the climbing itself was surprisingly easy and felt short-lived for how much ground we covered to do the route. Perhaps I was spoiled by a very icy Liberty Ridge last spring and we should have shortened things by approaching from Spray Park. Regardless, this was a great adventure.