Saturday, August 24, 2013

Blue Collar Bash: An Ascent of Mt. Baring's North Face Route

A faint morning sun penetrates the forest we hang from. Soloing through a vertical swath of brush and choss, Dan Hilden and I pull onto a 70 degree heather slope. Hard, dry hummocks under our boots might as well be polished smears and I claw at the greenery to make sure I don't huck off the hill and ping pong down the hideous 1000 foot gully below. It's comical really, this style of Cascade alpinism. I feel connected to a younger self on this ultimate tree climb, but my wiser mind recognizes the void below.

Dan contemplates the steep forest above

Ahead, steeper planes of rock stack up in front of a crowning headwall. With the brush crux behind us, we slip into rock shoes and began climbing quality Rhino Stone up unlikely features. The black, hard rock feels familiar under my fingers. Exit 38 and Little Si, the crags outside of Seattle that I cut my teeth on, feature the same, edges, jugs, and slick feet. The only difference on Baring is there are no bolts, only pathetic pins about to fall out of the wall.
The climbing on the headwall, although a bit heady, is quite reasonable. The rock is good and there are some options for pro. I watch Dan follow the crux 5.10c pitch, his determined figure dancing towards the belay. Shades of green swirl 2,000 feet below our rock shoes. Old growth forest, blueberry bushes, and Barcley Lake form a tapestry of lushness.
 


Two shots of Dan on the crux 5.10 pitch

Above the headwall, we find a magic ledge that whisks us out of our exposed position and deposits us onto Baring's southeast ridge. We un rope and hike up through misty talus, finding the summit only 200 feet above. I peak into the abyss and my stomach feels the gravitational pull of massive exposure. It's not a feeling I often find in Washington and I giddily stumble away from the edge.  Mt. Baring is a big wall with blue collar style. There are no golden flakes and splitter cracks here. Dark as night rock falls into a deep tangle of Dough Fir, Slide Alder, and Devils Club. Dan and I have climbed from these depths and a brighter world has appeared, glimmering glaciers and snowfields from surrounding peaks poking through the mist.
The "magic" ledge that leads to the southeast ridge and shortly after, the summit

We hang out on top for a while, the long day still young. After a while, we shoulder our packs and follow a fantastical path through trippy woods. Moss adorns smooth barked trees and straw colored light patterns the shadowed forest.
Dan The Man
 

Down, down, down we go, towards the valley below. The trail is unbelievably steep but it gets the job done quick. Soon, we're cracking cold ones and giving our old beater cars a little oil. It's time to go home.

The 1960 North Face Route on Mt. Baring has a fascinating and drawn out history. Stories of triumph and tragedy speak volumes about Ed Cooper, Don Gorden, Fred Beckey, and others who conquered this great wall with rudimentary gear and great courage. For more details see Climbing and High Routes: Stevens Pass to Rainy Pass, by Fred Beckey (the green book!).

Wednesday, July 24, 2013

Desperate Country: Seven Days on the Fence

Warm air rushed through the windows as my beater Subaru huffed and puffed towards Newhalem. In the trunk was kit for the mission. The stereo pumped out slamming techno and I gorged on pastries from the Sultan Bakery. Psyche was high. The following day, with Chad Kellogg, the gun went off and our dash through the Pickets began.
Chad approaches the McMillan Spires on day one
 
On July seventh at 3:30 AM we left the car with 35 pound packs stuffed with climbing gear, seven (to ten if you really pushed it!) days of food, a light jacket or two, sleeping bags, fuel, a stove, and a sill nylon tarp. We sweated buckets climbing out of Goodell Creek, but the way was clear and easy. Arriving in Terror Basin we re-hydrated and made good time on easy snow slopes to the base of the McMillan Spires. With knowledge from my 2011 Pickets enchainment and fresh bodies, we raced over all three summits and arrived at our bivy 12 hours after leaving the car. I felt really good about our day and enjoyed resting through the afternoon.
Chad navigates typically loose rock on West McMillan
 
Day two started with a taxing traverse of some small towers in between our bivy and Inspiration Peak. In 2011, Sol had navigated this section with relative ease, but I still struggled to find the way. When I did find the path I idiotically chose to make a long simul-climbing traverse with all 80 meters of our rope out. A bunch of drag later and some sketchy 5.10 moves in my boots and I finally arrived at the base of Inspiration's East Ridge. With a clean hand crack ahead we soared up and over both summits, descended, shot up the fantastic East Face of Pyramid, and scrambled Deganhardt to end our day. Tom Sjolseth spotted us on the ridge from his bivy in the Crescent Creek Basin and ascended to our camp to chat and take pictures of the beautiful sunset. It was great to have this unexpected encounter with a friend in such a spectacular place. After Tom began his descent, Chad and I settled in for a brisk night.
Chad steps out on day 2
Enjoying the best weather of the trip on day 2
photo by Chad Kellogg
Chad nearing the summit of Inspiration on day 2
Chad crosses a snow gully in between Inspiration and Deganhardt on day 2
At our second bivy just under the summit block of Deganhardt
photo by Chad Kellogg



Since we had failed to stick our plan on day two (we had hoped to make the summit of the Rake), we began early on day three. To regain our pace, we put the hammer down and climbed the East Ridge of Terror, The Rake, wound through numerous smaller towers, cranked out the 5.10 on East Twin Needle, scrambled terrifying rock on West Twin Needle, and then completed the technical crux our journey, monkeying up the mighty blade that is the Himmelhorn. By the time we rapped into the Ottohorn-Himmelhorn Col we had been on the move for 17 hours. I was astounded at how long we took to complete this section even though we were climbing well and I had traveled the terrain before. It was 1:00 AM before we curled up in the dirt. Dehydration dried out my tongue and torqued on my muscles. We were afraid to burn excess amounts of fuel to rehydrate properly at the windy and exposed col. In hindsight, we did have enough fuel to rehydrate here and it was this crucial mistake that cost us the final two summits in the southern portion of our enchainment. A cold and windy dawn had us struggling to stay warm in the early hours of day four and with a primal focus on getting more water in our systems, we descended the Mustard Glacier via a snow couloir on the col's north side and arrived at Picket Pass where we sat by a tarn and drank to our heart's content. The past three days of leading had me a bit frazzled and fried. A few times I questioned my sanity. Was I really putting myself in this position again? Why yes, yes I was.
Chad climbing Terror's East Face, day 3

Leading on the Rake, day 3
photo by Chad Kellogg

Cranking out some 5.10 on East Twin Needle, day 3
photo by Chad Kellogg
Climbing on one of my favorite routes in the Southern Pickets, Pyramid's East Face
photo by Chad Kellogg
The technical crux of our enchainment, The Himmelhorn's East Ridge
photo by Chad Kellogg
Chad wakes from a cold bivy at the Ottohorn-Himmelhorn Col on day 4



 
We left Picket Pass intend on using the latter half of day four to transition into the northern section of our journey. We hoped to climb Outrigger Peak, East Fury, and West Fury before lying down for the night. We ran into Tom and his partner Matt on top of Outrigger and enjoyed a social session on the summit. After a refreshing break, all four of us descended and then climbed to the summit of East Fury together in a thick fog that made navigation difficult. Never the less, we employed good beta from Tom and worked our way through worsening weather to a very cold and windy bivy below the summit of West Fury. The night passed somewhat excruciatingly as tough winds and moisture-laden clouds swept over the peak. The morning of day five brought some clearing, but rime ice lingered on the rock, as temps were slow to raise enough to melt the slippery nuisance. Finally, at 11 AM, we left the summit of West Fury and began moving down heads up terrain towards Swiss Peak. We both felt the loose down climbing and committing rappels in this section demanded much respect. The weather continued to be cold and unsettled. Chad had to encourage me through building doubt about our position. Our clothing was very minimal. If it started to rain or snow, hypothermia would come quickly on the exposed ridge. As on any grand adventure we were toeing the line of control.
Descending the Mustard Glacier toward Picket Pass on day 4
photo by Chad Kellogg
Chad and I on the summit of East Fury, ready to set off for West Fury in worsening weather
photo by Tom Sjolseth
Making it through a cold and stormy bivy on top of West Fury
photo by Chad Kellogg
Rigging a rappel amongst rime covered rock on West Fury
photo by Chad Kellogg
Chad heading towards Swiss after down climbing and rappelling off of West Fury, day 5
 
The remainder of day five was spent climbing around many pointy spires, summiting Swiss Peak, and climbing up and over Spectre Peak. Again, like on West Fury, getting off of Spectre was a dangerous exercise in uber-choss down climbing. We also made one rappel in this section. This terrain, though technically easy, was the most serious I've ever encountered in the Cascades. In very cold, windy, and foggy weather we climbed up towards the summit of Phantom Peak until we hit our wall for the day. Our camp that night was an exposed perch overhanging Phantom's north face. It was hard to keep our minds off the weather, but we managed to make it through another cold and hungry bivy.
Our bivy perched on the North Face of Phantom Peak, day 5
photo by Chad Kellogg
Chad brewing up at our bivy on Phantom
 
The next morning (day 6), like robots, we stuffed our sleeping bags and got down to business. Some morning clearing showed the long ridge ahead. Unfortunately, we knew the improved weather wouldn't last for long as a hazy ring cradled the sun and wispy clouds floated in the west. Knowing we had between 12 and 24 hours before the weather tanked, we climbed out of our bivy with focused determination. By the time we had summited Phantom and connected the ridge-line to Ghost Peak, clouds were bearing down on us. We were so intent on getting off the ridge that we chose to not scramble 20 feet of third class to the summit of Ghost. We just kept moving towards salvation.
Finally, as I was leading the last two pitches to the summit of Challenger, snow flakes started to fall. In the 10 minutes it took us to high five on the summit, make a short rap and walk over to our glacier descent, the weather gave out. We tried to make our way down the Challenger Glacier but were unable to see anything. A gentle ski run with easily passable cracks in good weather, we only found ourselves strung out over giant schrunds in a blowing mist. Our thin jackets began to get wet. I could feel my survival instinct telling me to abandon our descent before we were hopelessly lost and climb back to the rocks near the summit. Sure enough, just under the top of Challenger, Chad found a cave. It was a damn uncomfortable spot, but it was a key find for us. We huddled sleeplessly though the night, staying warm by fighting off the snafflehound from hell.
Rappelling off of Phantom on day 6
photo by Chad Kellogg
Scrambling towards Ghost Peak on day 6
photo by Chad Kellogg
Chad in deteriorating weather on day 6
Trying to get off the ridge, day 6
photo by Chad Kellogg
Chad and I psyched but cold under the summit of Challenger, day 6
photo by Chad Kellogg
Chad remaining positive through a cold night in a cave near the summit of Challenger
 
Day seven dawned beautifully, the breaking storm amplifying the magnificence of the sunrise. We quickly left our cave and descended down the glacier and onto Wiley Ridge. It felt wonderful to sit in the heather and not be exposed to the weather and other dangers that had mad the previous days so intense. All that remained between us and a bag of potato chips was a long, long walk home.
We spent the rest of day seven slogging out to Ross Lake Boat Camp. Even though only seven flat miles remained to our car, we had to stop. We shivered in the 70 degree weather and my stomach was twisted in pain. It had all caught up with us. I felt like I had predicted I would at this point. Utterly worked. Mosquitoes pestered us through our night in the dirt, but we were too exhausted to care. On the morning of day eight, after a couple hours of hiking, we stepped onto Highway 20.
Chad steps onto the Challenger glacier as the storm breaks on the morning of day 7
On Wiley Ridge, having escaped the Pickets
photo by Chad Kellogg
Back at the cars already dreaming about future adventures
photo by Chad Kellogg
 
Chad and I are absolutely stoked about or enchainment despite not summiting three of the peaks we had hoped to. We climbed nearly all day, every day, for seven days through demanding and serious terrain. We had minimal equipment, no cache, and no support. With the cold and unsettled weather in the latter half of the trip, it was a true challenge to keep the mind at bay (and get any sleep!). Looking back I see many mistakes and have learned many lessons that I hope to take with me to future objectives. As always, the path of growth continues. There is no crowning moment or pinnacle of achievement in this sport, but rather the continuing evolution of skills and consciousness.
 
I am so grateful for Chad as a partner. Only interested in the most outlandish ideas, I appreciate that our drive is to focus on objectives where success seems improbable. We always hope to travel the hardest, least traveled road we are able to.
 
I am also grateful to my incredible friends Sol Wertkin and Dan Hilden for our 2011 Pickets adventure. The beautiful moments from our enchainment have not been belittled in my mind. What a fantastic part of this journey! Dan's recent Alpinist article about our 2011 effort features more poignant thoughts about adventuring in the Pickets than I am able to come up with at the moment. It is a must read for sure!
 
And of course, a huge thanks to Wayne Wallace for not only being ok with me taking over his obsession with this objective, but encouraging me along the way. Thx Wayne!!!
 
Jens Holsten


Thursday, July 18, 2013

Leavenworth Mountain Sports Shindig

Hey guys!

I'd be really stoked to see some familiar faces at Leavenworth Mountain Sports on the 26th of July. This is gonna be a good one (I hope!).

See ya there!


Tuesday, June 25, 2013

Alaska!

In my last post I highlighted a new route that Jared Vilhauer, Seth Timpano, and I established on Reality Peak. That route was accessed from the West Fork of the Ruth Glacier, but the majority of my two week trip was spent climbing and skiing around Kahiltna Basecamp. It was a blast hanging out and climbing with the like-minded folks there.
 
When I arrived on the glacier, my partner was already climbing, giving the Moonflower Buttress a strong go. Full of excitement, but partnerless, I rant into Clint Helander and found out he was looking for someone to climb with too. We were both in the mood for something mellow. Clint was still recovering from The Phantom Wall on Huntington and I was looking for a good warm up. It didn't take long to decide on Mt. Francis' Southwest Ridge. Close to camp and enticing to any climber's eye, the Southwest Ridge follows steep snow broken by fun mixed and rock steps. When we mentioned our intentions to friends Pete Tapley and Kyle Rott, they decided to join us. Party ascent!
 
The next day, at the crack of noon, the four of us started up the ridge in beautiful weather. The good conditions allowed us to simul solo and we had a blast romping up the ridge together. It reminded me of being in Joshua Tree, scrambling with my friends and enjoying the simplicity of unencumbered climbing.
The monkeys raging on Francis
Pete Tapley photo
Pete and Clint take on a 5.7 rock step on the Southwest Ridge of Francis
Pete on Francis' Southwest Ridge
Taking a break with the North Buttress of Mt. Hunter behind me
Pete Tapley photo
Pete and Kyle out for a cruise on Francis
Clint and I closing in on Francis' summit
Pete Tapley photo
 
After Francis, Jared Vilhauer (who had been on the Moonflower) and I spent a day climbing nearly to the summit of Peak 12,200. Although we didn't quite make the top due to funky weather, moderately spicy cornice work and schrund jumping made for a classic day of Alaskan mountaineering.

 
 Jared sets out on the West Ridge of Peak 12,200
Schrund jumping on 12,200!
Photo by Jared Vilhauer
Descending 12,200. We used an ice traverse on the north side of the ridge to reverse the section we had overcome with a wild jump.
Photo by Jared Vilhauer
 
A few days of skiing followed our climbing on Peak 12, 200. Then we headed up the East Fork of the Kahiltna to try a new route that Jared had seen while he was guiding in the area a few years back. We woke up after a very cold bivy, approached the route, and then bailed when the seracs we thought didn't threaten the route seemed to, well, threaten the route. We tried another line that day on East Kahiltna Peak, but bailed when a sluff pushed us around while soloing a couple thousand feet off the glacier. Feeling that it just wasn't our day, we rappelled and then skied back to basecamp, enjoying the nice cold snow and beautiful views.
Jared skis up the East Fork of the Kahiltna Glacier
Retreating from the face we wanted to climb in the East Fork of the Kahiltna
Photo by Jared Vilhauer
 
Jared and I spent a few more days in basecamp weathering a snow storm and letting things settle out. It was great to hang with friends and ski a few laps in the fresh pow, but when the time felt right we called Talkeetna Air Taxi for our bump to the West Fork of the Ruth. It was time for the main event!
Basecamp life
Photo by Jared Vilhauer
Pete Tapley about to drop into the local ski hill
Scoping, always scoping...
Photo by Jared Vilhauer
The Great One from basecamp