We used to climb... but then moved to the fabled West, and moved a bit too far and onto Vancouver Island where the rock is either inaccessible or short - or Horne Lake hard, and we started mountain biking instead. I love my bike! But this is the story of a climbing trip we've planned several times. Since we've done the hike in several times, some of the pictures are from other trips. On these other trips we've really just done a long hike and taken our climbing gear for a walk.
Moving to Port Coquitlam means we're only an hour or so from Squamish - and can check the weather, pack the climbing gear or grab the bikes for a day off.
Since we live near Squamish now, we thought we would get a lot of climbing in, so the holiday plan included a week in August that started with us climbing the North Ridge of Mt Stuart, resting up for a day or two and heading to Winthrop to meet friends and run the Cutthroat Classic 10 mile mountain running race. As everyone knows that lives here - summer started in the beginning of August. I do however have a hard time changing plans, especially at the last minute when everything is ready to go and we suddenly realize that "Wait - we have everything - but we've hardly climbed....!"
Day One: Tuesday
Not to be deterred, we left (delayed by 2 days due to drywallers with a very poor ability to read either watch or calendar.... and other pfaff) for Leavenworth, the Bavarian Village in Washington.
Park at trailhead 9 pm, quick meal and sleep until 1:30 am Wednesday morning.
Day Two: Wednesday
We wake up at 1:30 as planned to find a young man in the parking lot quite panicked - his partner is on the rock fin on the Stuart Glacier with a broken leg and he had hiked back to get cell reception and call search and rescue. Since his partner had food, water, stove and sleeping bag we thought he would be okay until morning. Of course we'd check on him if he was still there, but hopefully he'd be out already.
We set off into the starry darkness. I had my new headlight and it has a bright, semi-bright and red-light feature. Apparently the red light is a new fangled feature not found on other lights, and it helps you see in the dark. I amuse myself for several hours that my headlight has a new fangled feature that helps you see in the dark.
The trail by starlight and headlight is amazingly surreal, and the hours pass without incident. As we near Ingalls Lake and resupply water from this gorgeous lake the sun is just peeking over the mountains, earlier than we'd hoped, but it helps us boulder around the lake.
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| Ingalls' Lake a few years ago |
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| Ingall's Lake, also a different day, it was too dark yet to get a picture that morning |
On the far side we follow the climber's trail to avoid descending into the lush green valley and having to climb back out, and head up and over the pass into the scree gully that ends with my hated ascent over Goat Pass. This scree filled gully scramble hasn't become more pleasant since we've camped here several years ago on our first attempt, but the views from the top are amazing.
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| Mt Rainier and his bumpy friends |
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| Will Carry Gear for Food |
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| Passing a bivy site where we've camped previously at the West Ridge of Mt Stuart |
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| Mt Rainier and a passing cloud |
Since the sun was by now (8 am) high in the sky we assumed that the injured climber would be gone, but he was still lying on the rock fin in the middle of the glacier. We called out to him and he started blowing his rescue whistle in response. We called again, but he kept whistling. Continuously. Marc decided that he would go over to see him while I found our best route to the base of the Complete North Ridge, and I wait at the top of the gully for a few minutes and get some pictures, then follow Marc to the ridge.
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| Can you see Marc walking across to the rock ridge? |
I need to add at this point that you can do the "Part North Ridge" or the "Complete North Ridge". An amazing climbing friend advised for the whole one, and said it took no time at all as long as you kept moving. Key to success was being light and fast...... and you didn't need crampons, ice axes or other crap you'd just have to carry up. Several sources mentioned not needing crampons or ice axes, and in the spirit of cooperation I agreed to leave my crampons at home if Marc brought his ice axe with him.
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| Another ugly spot |
Marc sat with the injured climber thinking rescue would be any minute now, but after a little while (about an hour and a half) we kept onwards to the base of our climb. The helicopter finally showed up around 11:30 am, just as we reached the base of our climb after slipping across icy glacier in regular footwear. The climbing guide states that you start off the snow at a ledge with trees, then up the lieback crack. Neither snow, a ledge anywhere near snowline with several trees or a lieback crack that extends for any distance are in sight. The only possible way to ascend would involve roping up and going exploring.
But.... it's noon. We have "light and fast" gear selection, and we will starve and freeze stuck on this route overnight. We also can't cross the glaciers easily to bail off once it freezes up again, because it's terrifying already without crampons or the glacier experience to just walk across and self-arrest when you slide out.
So.... we walk back.
Search and Rescue takes people, but leaves gear. We gather the gear strewn all over the rockface so it doesn't blow away and become so much more garbage and we try to pack it - but since the rescuer left all his heavy gear to be able to move quickly we have a pack and a half of gear. With two full packs of our own, this becomes a problem and we move slowly to get all the gear to the top of Goat Pass.
We take out the expensive climbing gear but leave the rest stashed in a small hole in the rock for someone to come and collect and head back down Goat Pass.
After a well-deserved nap in the sun we head back to the parking lot, arriving just after 9:30 pm. Start at 2 am, finished 9:30 pm, we realize we've put in less time than climbing the route but probably more work. We sleep in the car, exhausted. 12 miles, 4000 feet of elevation change between car and the route base, with packs containing about 25 or 30 lbs of unused climbing gear. Blech.
Day Three: Thursday
I wake up around 7 am feeling horrible. I have the shakes and shiver in my down jacket in 20 degree sunshine as we head into town. I drink about 3 liters of water before I start to feel better. We drop the injured climber's gear at the ranger station and we rent crampons, just in case we decide to try this again. Marc eats breakfast while I watch, then we explore Leavenworth a bit and head to the river for a nap in the shade.
Day Four: Friday
We sleep in until around 9 am, then make a leisurely breakfast before heading out for a short climb and going to Winthrop to meet friends. As we drive down the road I text Luisa to say we'll be in Winthrop tonight - but before we have cell service I delete the text as Marc turns the car around. We start hiking around noon.
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| Attempt Number..... 5 The matching outfits are essential (although unintentional) |
This time we have more gear. Forget light and fast and committed, we're carrying heavier and have a better chance of being able to finish this thing. Crampons, ice axes and food for a bivy at Goat Pass. We fill our camelpack bladders partway at the lake because we know there's melting snowpatches near Goat Pass. No stove - but we left the pack with the other guy's stove at Goat Pass, and without either of us saying anything we both drool at the thought of the hot meal waiting for us. We get to Goat Pass - and the pack is gone already. Boo. The glacier's frozen again, and running water would involve an hour or two to hike around. We'll get more in the morning on the far side of the rock rib where there was running water on Wednesday, and decided not to start until the glacier is softened a bit from the sun to make the crossing less scary.
Dinner is a redi-meal in a bag, edible and the view is phenomenal.
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| Mt Rainier in the background |
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| Camping alpine style |
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| Moonrise |
Day Five: Saturday
We get up at sunrise, the same time as the other party bivied at the Pass. They're heading down for the complete ridge while we strap on crampons and head across the icy glacier to the gully.
I think snow is a lovely thing to make into balls and throw at people. Walking across a steep glacier is terrifying. The rental crampons suck, and Marc takes the pair that won't shorten to fit my feet and tapes them onto his shoes to try to keep them in place. Since the glacier isn't melting yet we chop up as much glacier snow as we can stuff into our camelpack bladders and we never discuss water the entire climb. I walk a bit high getting to the gully entrance and have to descend a short distance directly above all the crevasses. I'm terrified, and I'm so happy to get to the gully! We place rock gear and rope up for the final move which involves ice climbing the frozen side of the glacier into a sand and choss filled loose gully.
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| Looking back at Goat Pass, the rock ridge in the middle |
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| Crevasses from the entry to the gully |
The gully.... is nasty. There are footprints casually walking up the loose sand and boulders, and the gully runs for 500 feet above us. I can't go back onto that glacier, it was much to scary, so we continue to rope our way up. The key is to have the belay stations in a little alcove so if rocks are knocked loose they won't land on the other person. Our "anchors" consist of slinging a bigger loose rock, or placing one piece of gear in solid rock at the side of the choss. At the top are some lovely bivy sites, and we continue on the real climb. The gully is definitely too scary to go back into, so we'll have to go up the climb. I start leading, and we simul-climb our way along the loose blocks without a definite sense of where to go other than continue up the ridge and hope it all works out somehow. The other group passes us in the afternoon as I do another 5.7 variation on good rock while they walk around the edge of the ridge on loose blocks. Occasionally there's a downclimb or rappel - which we hadn't thought about but it makes sense that a ridge would involve ups and downs. Routefinding is scary, as I keep expecting to take an easy route around only to be confronted by something unclimbable, but it generally seems to work out.
At 6 pm the other group bivies at the base of the Gendarme and call back to us that there is only one bivy site there and they're planning on staying. We climb one more pitch of lovely solid rock and across the much photographed knife ridge into a lovely alcove. There are no pictures of us climbing the ridge, unfortunately, but we were a bit preoccupied climbing.
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| Bivy site |
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| Straight down past our feet |
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| Marc eating dinner |
Supper is sharing a quarter bag of Snyder's Mustard pretzels (Yum!!!) and a granola bar. The night is comfortable enough - considering our bivy slopes outwards and we can't stretch our legs out without kicking loose rocks. We could have just kicked them off, but watching them fall a thousand feet into the gully would have been more than I could handle, and I tell myself they might be a good windbreak. It's a calm warm night, and we sleep until sunrise.
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| Sunrise |
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| The Gendarme ahead of us - there's a group of two bivied at the base, and you climb the cracks on the sunny side |
The Gendarme... The other group has fixed a rope and the lead ascends the rope rather than climbing. The second climbs but makes it look really very difficult and awful. I take Marc's shoes and ice axe to make it easier for him to lead, and I pray he makes it up without incident because I don't want to have to lead this. I seem to have lost my mojo overnight, and just want to be off this thing!
Marc does an amazing job on the lieback, leading cleanly up and over onto the belay ledge. I follow up and the pitch is amazing - a great lieback that gets progressively harder as the footholds on the sidewall shrink. The very top takes it out of me and I awkwardly exit onto the ledge, breathing as you would expect for someone climbing 5.9 at over 9000 feet with a full pack and two ice axes. I can't lift my head because the pack hits the back of my helmet, and I'm wearing every bit of clothing I brought because it's shady and cold.
Marc takes on the off-width above and again pulls it off in amazing style. I follow - and realize this will take me far too long to figure out. That's the beauty of alpine climbing I tell myself, it's not about style but about getting there, usually quickly if possible. I grab the number 3 cam and haul up on it, place my feet and grab the edge of the crack, then slide the cam up the crack and haul again. My ice axes scrape upwards on the rock, and before you know it I'm halfway up. I remove the number 3, but to my delight the red cam is at the base of the narrower section and can also slide up - and repeat the aid climbing adventure.
We head around and onto the route again, as I look at the Gendarme-alternative - a scree filled gully heading to a ridge covered in loose sand and rock. NASTY!
Route-finding now becomes even more chaotic, with so many options, so much loose rock and generally very easy climbing that seems to serpentine around on the ridge. I could see the headwall at one point and was positively euphoric, but I have no idea how many serpentines it will take to get to it. Marc is leading, and somehow keeps managing to find a way through, up, around or under ledges and rocks to reach yet another bivy site where other climbers have been stuck overnight. One more rappel into a gully, one more pitch twisting around giant detached 20 foot high boulders. One more 1/4 mouthful or water as a reward for getting through one more section of climbing.... Suddenly I hear him talking to someone as I clamber over rocks and realize that we're done with 'up'! It's 2 pm, and we WILL get off this today! We're not quite at the summit - but there is a group descending after doing the West Ridge and they know the way down.
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| Other climbers on the trail to the descent |
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| Looking back at the summit from the trail |
The descent through the Cascadian Couloir is long and relatively easy, but heading down slightly too early and into Ullrich's Couloir is notoriously dangerous and not recommended. I don't care that I haven't touched the summit - I want to find the right couloir! We change into shoes and boots, pack harnesses and gear as fast as possible and eat a half of a dark chocolate bar - our summit treat. It's a little hard to chew, since I'm a 'little' dehydrated. We follow the happy group cautiously down the loose boulders and into the Cascadian Couloir, then strap (and tape) on our crampons to front point down the snowpatch and into the scree filled but relatively low angle gully. I wanted to fill my camelpack bladder with more snow, but the forest below with running water seems so close. An hour later, I really crave some snow, but eventually we reach a lovely cold stream surrounded by flowers and green grass in the grey rock expanse and fill up.
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| Looking back at the South Side of Mt Stuart |
The walk out is on an even trail up and over Long's Pass, then down the switchbacks on the other side. We reach the car at 9 pm, approximately 6 hours after summiting. 11 miles, 5000 feet elevation change with a 1000 foot mountain pass or so thrown in for good measure. I've drank my 3 litres from the stream, which is 2 liters more than in the 36 hours previous. We cook up some food and drive home.
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