High Sierra's Matterhorn

G-man, finishing the bootpack section of the day

It had been over a week since the last snowfall in the Sierra, so if Garth and I were headed in the backcountry, it was time to look for where snow might be hiding. Given the previous week’s luck in east and north(ish) facing chutes, and given how the Sawtooth sub-range of the Sierra tends to get more snow than many places, we set our sights on the Matterhorn. One of the last times I had visited the twin lakes area outside of Bridgeport was to tick “ski dreams” off the list with the G-man himself. Time for a return.

A brisk start to the day  getting across the lake. Yes, those boots are day-glow orange

The rendezvous at the shell station in town was set for a casual 0700, but due to some impressive photos up and down 395, that got padded by 30 min. No matter…the temperature with the inversions settled in the Sierra meant temps in town were below zero again. “Damn, it’s cold here.” “Yeah, kinda glad we’ve delayed our start a tad.” Felt like that delightful winter weather from the week before was staying around a bit – though we would realize later that true to forecast, that cold, dense air was resting in the valleys, with the higher elevations being down-right civil.

How long is this valley again? Good thing we never lose sight of the objective.

No matter…dropping a car in town and finishing off the 13 miles out to the end of the road would be cake…right? “You can’t park in the gas station here because of all the vandalism.” “Is there really that much crime in Bridgeport?” “I can neither confirm nor deny…you just can’t park here.” Sheesh. We left a car locked, void of valuables on the side of 395 and headed straight for the most dramatic skyline in town. To our surprise, there was another car in the lot…then a second. “Good, he’ll put the skin track in.” “Wait, they’re still here…let’s get going before they poach our line.”

Valley check. Now for the business.

Skinning across a frosty, faceted twin lakes by 0815. As expected, all it took was a few hundred vert for the temperatures to rise. Shedding layers less than an hour into the climb. Now, when it comes to the Matterhorn [made famous in Jack Kerouac’s Dharma Bums], it’s easy to forget that before you start making vertical progress on the mountain proper, there is a long canyon to cross. Good thing that from start to finish of said canyon, the Sawtooth ridge dominates your vision without obstruction, and the Matterhorn is front and center. With a slight breeze, and scintillating conversation, Garth and I were out of said canyon making progress on the moraine within 2 hours of leaving the car.

Never a moment that wasn't picture worthy...all day

In and out of the shade kept the sun and our internal temperatures in check...before we knew it, we were staring at the last of the ascent, and 3.5 delightful routes of descent to choose from. We decided to skin as far as we could on Ski Dreams, finish it off with a booter, and tag the summit…no big deal. The boot pack was a great mix of unbreakable crust, breakable, unconsolidated powder, powder, and any combination thereof. Our strategy to find the powder in the Sierra by coming to the Matterhorn was a failure. No matter…just play the hand you’re dealt.

Hmmm...what to ski, what to ski...

We finished off the boot pack, grabbed some nutrition, and then saw our progress shattered by the scree/talus/wind board/isothermal melting snow on the south side. After a look down the looker’s right couloir off the Matterhorn summit, there was a ribbon of windboard to get around the rock band, then potentially good snow back down to the moraine. We dropped our packs and headed for the top…

Finish off the booter, G-man

The backside slog was...well...taxing

“Summits do matter.” “Yeah, well, that’s just like, you’re opinion, man.” We scrambled on some 4^th class terrain for a bit, and gained the summit. Due to the slowed progress, we couldn’t indulge in the summit nap – sigh - we snapped some pics, and while I dug like a squirrel finding the summit register, Gman booked it back to the packs. 

What's a day in the Sierra without a little scrambling on immaculate granite?

Looking down the couloir, that ribbon of snow was looking thinner and thinner, but we were convinced it would go. Turns out it was bulletproof…but it would take an edge, so I swallowed the pride and scraped down the thing, getting no style points on the effort.

"Summits do matter"

Garth, in a bout of superior reason, decided it was safer to inverse boot pack the wind board until the snow got softer, and the consequences of a fall were less severe. Good man. We got ourselves down to what seemed to be the only powder on the mountain, and cut through it with big grins on our faces…at least on mine. It didn’t hurt that the backdrop to our turns was quite photo-worthy, but we did like the idea of maximizing daylight. “Let’s get off this thing.” “Amen.”

"I think it'll go." Our descent from the summit.

We cruised through the low angle stuff and actually found a great 500’ chute that, though avy prone, was full of the best snow all day. Next was the b-line through the canyon, passing a guided party headed for our previously tagged summit, followed by thinking light thoughts dropping down the lower moraine and a skate ski across the lake to the car. Phew…no headlamps needed. 

"I'm gonna boot this thing until it's safer" - smart man...as an aside, that rock looks good.

As we gobbled some energy beans and sipped the last of our vino, we watched the last of the alpenglow disappear off of the Matterhorn’s west face – lending the deep satisfaction of seeing your completed objective from the car, in a warm puffy with fresh socks and comfy shoes on our feet. “What’s next?” “Let’s see where the snow falls before we decide.”

"I've never had a bad day skiing"

Time for some dinner, hot water to dull the aches and sleep.

There's something so satisfying when able to see your completed objective from the car.

Sunday brought about a more mellow situation. With no takers to head out to Red Slate, it was time to get out and explore the snow pack. Funny, after the first couple hundred vert, it was apparent the effort on the ‘horn on Saturday had sapped a bit more gumption than expected. Coupled with the lack of clear objective besides just touring around and enjoying the snow and winter weather, motivation was lagging.

Call it the winter parking lot for snowmobiles...bleh

The route chosen was to head towards Reds Meadow and see what happens after that. Perhaps the snow below the closed road on the steeps was deep and stable. Turns out it was. Pick the line through the most shaded old growth area and you might find the deepest turns in the Sierra at present.

As I skinned up the groomed road, however, the grin turned upside down as the alpine air was saturated with the noise and repugnant smell of two-stroke snowmobiles. Upon hitting an expanse where a snowmobile party had treated it  like a high school parking lot and they just learning to drive in the winter - the scene, coupled with my fatigue from the day before halted progress all together. I stopped, and just sipped some shiraz for a while before deciding on the next move.

I can’t say the mechanical presence of man was the only reason for halting progress, but I will say it was a player – strange how one can look at a slope and see skied lines and not get the same sense of revulsion, but seeing a pristine, snow-covered meadow torn up by frivolous, mechanized tracks with the faint brapping sounds in the background sullied my mood. Best to make the most of it and get away from the petroleum-powered hoi polloi.

Now that's more like it...mojo, returned.

Within minutes of leaving the disturbed area and back to the untouched winter scenes of the Ansel Adams Wilderness, it was back to good spirits accompanied by a return of motivation to poke around. Nothing major to report, just a Muir-esqe stroll in the woods to serve a reminder on how great it is to spend time with 400 year-old cedars and putting in your own skin track. So pleasant to see no tracks ahead, and only your own prints behind. 

There was one close call with a lasting lesson. On one section of trail, earbuds still in, trying to side-hill on unbreakable crust, my uphill ski popped off. I sat, and just then, a medium-refrigerator sized chunk of ice rolled down the cliff and stopped right next to me and because of the buds, the only thing I heard was the twang of Temper Trap’s guitars. Had I been just 10 feet higher, things could have been nasty. Lesson: When in questionable terrain, be alert.

Nature, knocking on the door with a reminder to be more vigilent...everywhere in the backcountry

So there you have it: Another fantastic winter weekend filled with great people, gorgeous Sierra vistas, wandering about in the frosty mountains and even a couple lessons. May the winter continue to be fruitful for you all. 

Get out and enjoy winter, and it will return the favor

I Love Winter

View from the top of Wood: worth the effort

Weekends can be a number of things: complete duds, magical two [three?!] days, start out great and end in a disaster, start inauspiciously and be a total silver lining, and anything in between. With unseasonably cold temperature gracing the Sierra and greater snowfall than the entirety of the previous season, it was time to get back and enjoy the white blanket covering the range…well, the northern part anyway. How the weekend would turn out was up for debate. 

Love! We didn't hit the dew point, that means no surface hoar: Double your booyah.

“Stay Rock Creek or north” was the welcome beta. The other prerequisite was minimal driving – it had been a busy and travel-weary holiday season, and just getting over the seasonal crud and illnesses meant I was interested in staying close to home for a two-day stay-cation. Original itinerary to chum the waters was to cross two mountain ski tours off my list: Mt. Wood and Red Slate are prominent peaks in the area – Wood’s east face dominates a five mile stretch of 395 south of Lee Vining and as soon as you get above 10k feet between June Lake and Rock Creek, Red Slate sticks out as the highest peak around. Problem with both is their approaches to ski quality vert are non-trivial…at least by Sierra standards, so I was flexible. Ski partners were either all busy, or not interested...it wasn’t looking good.

-18F at the trailhead? within 30 min it felt like +18C

Time passed and two Tahoe buddies were primed on the itinerary, and one taker in Mammoth for at least Mt. Wood meant I was set for a great weekend enjoying the cold temps, the dry, stable snow, and the uninhibited, relentless California sunshine with grand company.

Why Mono, you're looking as beautiful as ever

Friday, 20:00: “Garth’s flight is cancelled, bussing in from Sacramento” and 20:50 “I gotta bail on tomorrow.” Gosh, plans just took a turn for the worse...I decided I would solo Wood and like Bloody a few weeks back, withdraw if conditions were anything but safe and straightforward. Sunday? Who knows?

Look closely, and you can see Garth

Saturday, 0600: “Leaving Tahoe in 15…we’re headed for Wood.” Excitement of returned camaraderie in the backcountry was back. A later start was warranted…well, I wanted to sleep in, so a leisurely wakeup, prep and drive put me skinning in the -18F temps next to Silver Lake by 0830. Within minutes, the wind died and I was on a pure SE facing pitch: -18 seemed more like 80F with the merciless sun and my black garments and I felt my progress slow.

The Sierra to the south sure look delicious

With greater elevation brought the cool breeze and before I knew it, Garth and Scott were visible behind. Oddly, the distance between stayed constant, and at the entry of the final ascending couloir, they waited for me to turn around due to what looked like poor ascending conditions. The inconsistent snowpack, a delightful combination of 3-6” wind slab, 3’ of unconsolidated sugar, bulletproof slabs and breakable crust summed to a psychologically taxing boot pack, but no matter, the summit ridgeline was in sight.

Not a single bad turn on the entire face

The time splits were maxed: I was standing on the summit, staring with mouth ajar at the full east face while Scott and Garth stayed at the adjacent bowl ½ mile back. We would descend different routes – not a problem as we all enjoyed over 2k vert of cold smoke. Yes, these cold temps and their accompanying snow and wind meant the top layer on the leeward faces was light, fluffy, deep and surprisingly stable. The group was reunited at the base of the peak proper, and we gang-skied the 3k’ low angle terrain and took turns taking pictures all the way back to the road. Back to the cars with daylight to spare, followed by hot-tubbing, cold brews and homemade pizza.

Getting this guy to laugh never gets old  The mission: Red up, green down. FYI, I recommend going up the next chute to the right

Being the first tour of the year for all of us, Garth coming from sea level and Scott voluntarily lugging around 15 extra pounds of camera gear, Wood left us a bit drained. The thought of hauling all the way back to Red Slate to a potentially wind-slabbed, steep and no-fall couloir didn’t sound appealing, especially since one year prior the long approach was rewarded with the most dangerous avy pit I’ve ever dug with 7’ crowns surrounding the lower Red Slate basin. Esha was the new objective for Sunday, provided the road was open at least a part of the way.

Plan B: Not Boehners, not the morning-after pill, but yes, a morning-after cure to lethargy: sweating out the demons while booting to the summit of McGee

Alpine start not needed, but upon arriving at the McGee Creek road, we found it full of snow within 200m of 395. In a moment of weakness, we all succumb to the lack of gumption to skin 3 miles one way on a low-angle road that – given a couple days of warmer temps – would be dry and passable by car. 

In hindsight, I sound really lazy. But staring at us from the parked car were a couple of tasty looking chutes that at least looked full. “Look, there’s a pair of guys already headed up, let’s change the itinerary and get quality vert from the car.” McGee Mountain it was. Dan set a blistering skin track for us, but given the slabby nature of the snow, we were only able to utilize ~ 1/3 of it, preferring to set our own path up the gut of the main chute. We topped out and explored the plateau and a better descent while Scotty dealt with skin problems.

Is that a ski skin, or a bath mat? G3, you suck.

Next came the unexpected fun of probing around a new place. I had been to the top of the main McGee chute before, but due to 50+ mph winds, I blitzed down the beautiful corn and basked in the leeward sunshine instead of poking around on top. This time, with two good buddies, we dined, wined, and topped out on the true summit, affording gorgeous views of McGee Creek, Esha Canyon and the Convict area. 

The view from the top: Morrison, Bloody, Laurel and even the Minarets. Nice.

Sure we looked at Esha’s northern chutes and wondered what might have been had we sucked it up and skinned the road, but we were over it, happily snapping our SLR shutters and cracking jokes in the subzero temps whilst surrounded by an unexpected, gorgeous winter Sierra panorama.

Scotty, after peering into McGee Canyon, decided topping out was worth it

The temps hastened our descent, and before we knew it, we were standing above what looked to be great snow in the next chute north of what we ascended. Sure enough, it was. Save a little wind slab half way down, only one rock was nicked the entire descent to the car. Not exactly waste deep 10%, but not a death crust and slab like what we saw on the skin up. Just a great, non-stressful straight-from-the-car ski day with the guys.

G-man enjoyed the view too

So what started out as a potential lonely solo mission on the weekend ended up as two great days touring with friends and finding great snow. You never know what’s in store in the backcountry, and oft times, you have to push through: hateful boot-packs, heinous slab and crust, poor weather…whatever. Bring a positive attitude, good people, ample gumption and it’s going to be good time, or at least something to laugh about over beers later.

Getting from the summit to the car didn't suck

Call me crazy, but it was delightful to have such crisp winter air in the Sierra. When first moving to Tahoe 5 years ago, I recall with a grin how NPR on the alarm clock would report “Extreme cold warning: lows of 17F expected.” Waking to temps of -20F made me flush with New England and Jackson nostalgia, and though Rocky Mountain inhabitants will laugh at such temps I’ll take all the sub-zero time I can get.

"McGee has the worst snow on the planet right now." I couldn't disagree more.

Keep enjoying the winter where you are, everyone…you know I will.

Sub-zero temps, great snow, beautiful mountains and these guys: Only good can come of this.

Holidays 2012

Yes Montana, you have a big sky, and it's beautiful first thing in the morning

Departing the Eastern Sierra for the holiday season was a tough move this year. After a great day on Bloody and arrival of a storm as big as any we received in the 2011/2012 season meant the dawn patrol before departing town brought the first face shots of the season. “Ian, just point ‘em down hill…if you’re going too fast, make a quick turn and shower yourself with cold smoke.” Yes, the snow the week before Christmas was more bountiful, more stable and drier than expected. That meant deep, hero turns before work…then departure for some time with family. No biggy…the more it snows, the more full the backcountry will be when I get back.

So much potential for good...

The first leg of the journey saw the landing gear touchdown in DC. With silly-cheap flights to cross the country, then to Vermont, I would be continuing the one-way ticket travel theme of 2012. That was all fine and good until getting on the metro to my brother’s apartment I got a call. “Cancel your last leg…I need you to tow my boat up to New York.” The relaxed holiday travel just got a little, well, less easy.

...Yet time and time again a bastian for power hungry, do-nothing bureaucrats

Before finally coalescing and hauling his behemoth wakeboarding boat behind America’s most ubiquitous people hauler up half the eastern seaboard, it was time to explore our nation’s capitol a bit. Washington was great, mostly because I got to spend time with brother, and see some of America’s most poignant bi-polarism: Much of what is right with our country [world class museums with free admission], situated directly next to the epitomy of what is wrong [an almost completely dysfunctional government].

Those semi's probably got better gas milage. Oops

Pete and I explored the botanical gardens, wandering through a jungle bedecked with delicate orchids, equatorial spice plants, palm trees and glass walls dripping with warm humidity. No ticket cost, just a friendly head nod from the front desk as we wandered through the various rooms. It’s a source of pride to know that just down the street, anyone can do the same, but with air and space, contemporary paintings, the bill of rights…the list goes on. We also took some time to complete a hot lap of the capitol. Years ago friends and I would point at the marble dome saying “We work there,” happily reminding ourselves of our senate page duties during the summer months.

The first gift of xmas 2012...and one that keeps on giving

15 years later, as Pete and I meandered around the global symbol of grassroots democracy, I could only muster a sense of tepid ambivalence. Deep down, I want to know our government can do what’s right and prove again we can be global leaders in the right arenas. More pragmatically, I look to it as a sheepish sanctuary of selfish politicians eager to do nothing but hold onto power so they can continue lining their pockets and those of their wealthy corporate benefactors. I wish you well, DC, and it was good to visit, but it was time to head to New England.

How many routes can you count from your doorstep? Home sweet home for five days

Never have I operated a standard road-going vehicle aveaging less than 10mpg. Waking in the morning to see brother to work, it was then time for me to go to work, and that meant logging miles quickly and efficiently. I had to get his 5k lb boat to upstate New York before 4pm, and I was successful. I even squeaked in a detour through Princeton, NJ – long enough to admire the beauty of the town and snicker at their namesake institution’s bloated sense of prestige and importance. Then it was off to the green and white mountains of Vermont. Three trips home in a year was a personal best in 2012, and though I can’t expect to repeat it in 2013, it doesn’t damper the joy of spending time with family, eating local delicious foods, sipping local microbrews and reminding myself of why Vermont was such a great place to grow up. Sprinkle in plenty of time relaxing and laughing and exchanging stories over scrumptious home-cooked feasts, and you have a great winter-warmer recipe.

Yes, it's ok to smile whilst ice climbing...because it's so damn good

Travelling out of Vermont proved to be difficult for everyone but my father as he eschewed the travel advisories accompanying the biggest storm in two years and got me to Hanover with time to spare for the next Dartmouth Coach to Boston. Buses, an airport bivy, planes full of winter sickness and two rental cars later, I was in a place that should elicit a smile from anyone: Cody, WY. It was time for the annual ice pilgrimage to the Rocky Mountains with a bunch of College gents and it was not to disappoint.

Mr. Feinstein even joined us for a couple days. Photo: Jeff Hebert

The South Fork, Shoshone River area is a fantastically beautiful concentration of conglomerate rock cliffs, mountains and buttes spewing ice flows over cliffs in a frequency unmatched by any locale in the contiguous 48. In the last 5 miles of the drive you set eyes on 100m flows of ice from the cozy confines of your car seat and stare with pavlovian anticipation of the next day’s objective. This year marked the first for opening the Flying H ranch at the end of the road to ice climbers. 

Eben,  a little wet, but no worse for the wear

There are three alternatives to this lodging arrangement: car camp at the near by Deer Creek campground [convenient, but rugged if you don’t love camping in < 0F temps and have wet, cold gear], bivying at the base of climbs [brrr…why would you ever do that?], or drive back into Cody and get some inexpensive lodging. Problem with the latter is the road is 37 miles one way, winding in places and speckled with deer at sporadic and unpredictable intervals. We jumped at the possibility of sleeping out there [nice work, Ryan], and we were set for five days of winter glory.

Day 1: Broken Hearts

Day 2: Festering Ice, Ice Fest

Day 3: School House Gully

Day 4: Mean Green

Day 5: Spying and Flying

Mr. Hebert was even smiling...but then, how can you not?

Bryan joined us for the first two days of climbing while the author had to bail after half of the climbs on day 2 due to illness. Of course, there has to be something memorable with every trip and this time it was an unfortunate turn of events. Ryan took a chunk of ice directly to the left pupil, rupturing capillaries and abrading the cornea. That meant a late night run to the Billings Clinic for a qualified ophthalmologist to conclude that Ryan would regain full vision, albeit with some side effects including x-ray and augmented reality vision a la the Terminator [watch out, ladies and the DOD].

Eben taking on pitch 1 of Mean Green. Photo: Jeff Hebert

After some tasty talking with airline personnel exploiting some ‘medical emergency,’ he was back home to accelerate his recovery and we were back at the Flying H to make the most of the rest of our stay. Eben and Jeff kept up the continuous climbing and got an afternoon in the Schoolhouse gully after rallying from Billings in the am, and while the author took another rest day to purge the travel demons, the ambitious pair knocked off the first three pitches of Mean Green the next day. Jeff parted ways back to the pacific northwest while Eben and the author went exploring for Spying and Flying. The first pitch was too wet and thin in spots for our liking [quite surprising given air temps were barely double digits F], so pitches 2 – 4 were completed in its stead. Compared to the other climbs, S&F had a longer and more arduous approach, but the quality of ice and aesthetics of the climb [certainly even more so with pitch 1 fully in] are well worth the price of admission.

Mr. Hebert exercising wardrobe/gear color coordination and safety first on P2 of Mean Green. Photo: Eben Sargent

For the author, it was then time to spend some welcome time in MT with the better half – introducing her to ice climbing after a day of flying with her and her father over the Beartooth Mountains in his Comanche 4-seater. There are fantastic ski and rock lines in those mountains for those willing to endure a little approach and bush whack, and I was delightfully surprised at the general burly-ness of this previously unknown terrain – I can’t wait to get back with the AT setup and some additional gumption.

The author leaving the evil at the belay on pitch 4: Spying and Flying. Photo: Eben Sargent

I don't get this view very often...

Lauren scaled four pitches of ice with nary a complaint – not a surprise given her Montana heritage and how there was thick, blue plastic ice everywhere in that canyon. One more day based out of Red Lodge involved a road trip with the lady up East Rosebud Canyon – a gorgeous glacially carved valley on the Beartooth’s northern fringes. Home of California Ice and a couple of other hidden and not-so subtle ice flows, I’m surprised I haven’t explored more of this area and can’t wait to go back with more daylight and the pointy bits.

First day ice climbing...and this has been in your back yard for how long?

Yes, don't be afraid to smile when getting the goods...

So after a couple weeks of getting around and about, I’m as enthused as ever to make the most of the 2013 winter [with some work mixed in for balance of course], I wish all of you a happy and healthy season, and look forward to seeing you outside.

Highest peak in Montana...from the window of a Comanche...sure looks like fun

Water and bubbles sure do funny things when it gets cold

Bloody Couloir and Appreciation

The Sierra from Bloody Mountain: it is a young winter, and it is beautiful

Living in an area where everyone else travels to spend their vacation can be a double edged sword many times. A negative aspect is that one is prone to taking for granted how good life can be where you live, and the Eastern Sierra is not immune to this. With unsettled weather moving over the Sierra, it limits the opportunities available for recreation: Is the snow stable enough? The right consistency? Is it warm/cold/sunny/dry enough to engage in other activities, etc., etc. The fact that out our front doors we can go for a walk, ride a bike or even drive a car to a favorite reading locale in one of the most beautiful areas of the country can get lost in a selfish pursuit of personal objectives or an agenda of predetermined activities.

Cragging in a tee shirt, in December. Not bad.

There is a silver lining to this cloud of inherent geographical selfishness: when things conspire against your primary desires, it only sharpens how good the experience can be once the opportunity returns. Since returning from fall travels, the Sierra’s alpine environs have been in the grey area of not summer, and not quite winter. That means rock routes will be cold enough where much of the enjoyment of climbing them would be lost in keeping warm and safe, and short days and snowy approaches call for greater commitment. That doesn’t stop a lot of passionate members of the outdoor community – and for others it merely highlights the need to change the activity of choice or embrace the commitment.

Chasing 5 star sport routes: a fun way to change things up

Activities were structured the last week to welcome dawn patrols and gorge season. It’s easy to forget that one of California’s premier sport climbing crags is just down the road, how one can have a civil wakeup hour, and after a short drive on one of America’s most scenic roads be clipping safe bolts and anchors on very enjoyable steep, volcanic tuff…in your tee shirt…in December. Couple that with being surrounded with great people who are eager to get stronger while enjoying each other’s company, and the recipe is there for a great day…all the time. 

"It's like outdoor gym climbing"

There are nearly 700 named routes in the ORG guidebook, and more every year. Heck, many routes are highly rated trad climbs, so bring a rack down to mix things up. Bottom line is to have that outlet for strength training and outdoor activity at any time of the year is quite an asset, and not to be overlooked, nor should the effort expended by the many people over the years to make that area available to everyone, to make it safe and enjoyable for all to recreate. Thank you.

Sure the ORG isn’t the most spectacular place, but its views are quite beautiful themselves, and waiting patiently for your return from the depths for a post-climb beer at the car is a panoramic vista of the frosty Sierra, providing another visual reminder of how lucky we are. Every trip down to the ORG I’m meeting climbers making the commute from San Francisco, LA, San Diego, Reno, you name it. If it’s sunny anywhere in California, chances are high it is in the ORG, and it’s fun, and it’s in your back yard.

As yes, 'tis the season for...Sastrugi? How are those early season conditions again?

Alas, as John Muir penned, “…the mountains are calling.” Though belaying from a comfy bench in the California sun is delightful, being able to get up into the higher mountains - at times - has become almost as necessary as eating and sleeping, sometimes regardless of weather or conditions. After a couple of laps in the Sierra backcountry last week, conditions in areas were questionable, but more and more reports were coming in with the annual early season advice: “If you’re hungry for it, and get out to the right places, the goods are there.” With some most timely advice from locals, the sights were set on Bloody Mountain’s Bloody Couloir.

It looks like it just might go

It was a late start and because we’re nearing the winter solstice, that meant movement would be constant throughout the day, and time splits would be required. With sun setting between 1630 and 1700, that meant turn around at 1400, with a little margin barring conditions and situations. I’m not terribly proud that I didn’t have a partner for a backcountry ski outing, but since I had done the approach before, knew the fastest, safest and best way for ascent and decent with cell coverage throughout the day, I deemed the risks of being alone manageable. Further, with conditions in the couloir being relatively unknown, extra caution would be exercised, and no regrets would be had if safety was at all in question and a retreat necessary.

With nothing but Dostoyevski, a playlist full of goodies and my own thoughts for accompaniment, I left the turbo at the intersection of Sherwin Creek Road and Laural Lakes OHV trail at 0930. Miles were covered briskly as the cool morning air kept temps in the sun civil and ripe discussions of the sensual Karamozov men rang in my ears. An hour in brought a switch from approach shoes to AT boots. The OHV road leading virtually to the middle of Bloody Couloir was a mix of snow and dirt, so that meant after switching to boots, I was constantly swapping between skinning and walking. No matter, before I knew it, the road was switching back, and slopes held snow consistently. I was in the base of the couloir, risers on high by noon.

Risers on high at high noon: it's looking better

Next came the crux: would the conditions be safe for a solo ascent and descent? As I continued so gain elevation, it was apparent there was a firm and stable base, with a delightful dusting on top ranging from a few centimeters, to boot deep…this could be good. As the heart rate climbed, it was time to switch from literature to music, and from skins to boot pack. The rhythm of punching steps and sticking poles made the vertical pass by, and the calories evaporate. Had to stop for nutrition half way up.

It is stable, and it is good...really good

The couloir is split in the middle by a deceptively large rock buttress, and having chosen the looker’s-left path the last time, I made my way up looker’s right. For safety sake, unless there was ample evidence to the contrary, I would be coming down what I went up. Consistently checking the snowpack, with each segment of boot pack it was becoming readily apparent that not only was the snow stable, but the dust on top was getting deeper – not deep enough, or slabbily unstable enough to slide, but great to climb and an absolute dream to descend.

Being the first time above 11k and the longest day in a while, I stopped a few times to catch a breath and take a photo, and before long, I was at the steep roll over. Without my inclinometer I would pin it at ~45 degrees right now – enough where I was ascending on all fours, digging in the whippet less for safety but for balance and efficiency of movement. Still checking the safety of the snow pack, even at the roll over there were no signs of unstable layers or facets to cause anxiety…the summit would be feasible, and fun.

When the Going gets steep, put it in four low

Another few steps and Eureka! – sunshine and the col at the top. I dropped the skis, scampered to the summit and checked the time: 1345. Plenty of minutes to soak in the sun, absorb the beauty offered by the Bloody summit, and take in some calories and hydration. Through the beats on the ascent, there was an echo that this type of day was much needed: constant movement, an objective, and the humbling presence of the mountains. Sitting on top, sheltered by the wind, showered in cloudless sun and surrounded by the stunning, dusty white Sierra, never were the day’s decisions more vindicated…until I strapped in and enjoyed ~2300 vert of cold dust glory.

In the middle of a hero snow descent off a 3800m peak: stop, breath, and reflect on how lucky I am

Yes, only the very top had the breakable crust seen elsewhere in my BC travels the previous week, and after the first few feet, it was stable snow on top of a firm base. I didn’t even hit any land sharks on the way down. The turns were so good, I was a bit disgruntled I didn’t start earlier to afford the opportunity for a second lap. After all, the boot pack was in, and the other side of the couloir was probably just as good. Oh well…next time. At the bottom, looking up, I could do nothing but stare and smile.

Not a single bad turn in the entire thing

Returning to the Laurel lakes road, it was back to the on-again, off-again skis as I picked my way back down to my approach shoes, stopping periodically to look back at the line with a grin and a deep sense of satisfaction. By 1600 I was out of ski boots and scampering down the rest of the road to the turbo, and eating snacks in the drivers seat by 1630.

If only there was more daylight for a second lap...

All told, it’s been a great week to stop and think how lucky it means to be in the Sierra: a few dawn patrols, humbling whippers in the gorge and solid rest made the appetite for the mountains this weekend as ravenous as ever. That outdoor hors d'oeuvre made the return to Bloody and the higher mountains on fantastic conditions that much more poignant and unforgettable, and just whets the appetite for more winter splendor. Heck, I haven't even swung the nomics yet this year. 

With holiday travel looming on the horizon, and with this backcountry deliciousness lingering, I have a renewed confidence this will be a great winter, and I'll be sure to appreciate whatever the weather brings in this ice-stone-and-snow shangri-la. 

Red Slate, you're looking rather handsome...perhaps you'll be next...

Gear: 
- Thermal next-to-skin long sleeve base layer
- OR ferrosi hoody
- Mountain hardware synthetic puffy
- Mammut softshell pants
- Dynafit TLT5 boots
- Dynafit vertical bindings
- Dynafit Stoke Skis
- BD Ascension Skins
- BD Agent Pack
- Camp Al Crampons [not needed]
- 1 whippet
- La Sportiva Boulder X approach shoes

Nutrition
- 2x gu chomps cranberry apple [3.5/5 stars]
- Dark Chocolate Dreams sammy
- 125g of frito/jalapeno cheese puff salty crunchy deliciousness combo
- 1.5L water

A Red Rocks Thanksgiving

Flaming sunrises are a bonus to unsettled Sierra weather

Over the last few years I’ve had some good trips to Red Rock National Scenic Area west of Vegas. They were composed of large groups gang-roping crags in the desert sun for temporary relief from winter’s grasp, two-person missions to tackle long classics and medium group tours of the moderates covering the large canyon walls.

Before heading to Red Rocks, let's get some turns in, whattya think?

It was this Thanksgiving’s trip to Red Rocks that has proven to be one of the best on memory. With work’s demands preventing larger travel to further destinations, a high pressure system camping over the desert southwest prescribed unseasonably warm temperatures, scant wind and ample opportunity to continue experiences on some of Red Rocks’ most classic routes. I would be so lucky to have a companion on the trip, and after some last minute planning, another posse of good friends would be making the trek south from Tahoe as well. A storm was brewing: a storm of good times.

Mercy that's a lot of varnish to grab onto...and to snag a rope on rappel. Birdland: a winner

Since moving out west and making periodic trips to Vegas, experiences were usually balanced: rustic camping in the campground on the edge of the city, tackling the sandstone and varnished rock offered by canyons and crags, then taking in the spectacle of Las Vegas: the flashing lights, misplaced architecture, bursting fountains and craziness of Sin City. Through it all, there is one part of Las Vegas that has always garnered personal interest: the fact that Cirque Du Solei has helped define Vegas as a hub for world class theatrical entertainment. With a lady for accompaniment showing the same interest in catching a show, it was time to make it happen.

Lauren topping out on the unforgettable corner distinguishing pitch 8 on Black Orpheus

A good friend in the area hooked us up with tickets to Ka at the MGM grand, mother nature cooperated to make rock climbing a perfect outing and a posse of good folk assured this was to be a Thanksgiving to remember.

Topping out on Black Orpheus: Worth the five stars

All told, climbing included unhindered pitches on Birdland, Black Orpheus and Sour Mash, with a Thanksgiving Day cragging session in the Calico Basin. Birdland was finished with plenty of time for lounging at our hotel, a leisurely stroll up and down the strip and a delicious Thai dinner at Bally’s. Then it was on to the MGM to take in the marvel of the Ka set and its theatrics on its 7 moving stages. I’ll say the hype is worth it for the show, as I was mesmerized by the moving set alone, to say nothing about the acrobatics of the actors and screen play.

That's a wrap: stuff that gear away and lets go get some dinner

We woke up late on Thanksgiving Day, rendez-vous’ed with the Tahoe crew, procured all the fixings for thanksgiving dinner and cragged until the sun set over the Rainbow cliffs to the west. Thanksgiving dinner was surprisingly delicious as the traditional menu was not compromised by the rustic Red Rock campground accommodations. Friday and Saturday held in store unimpeded ascents of Black Orpheus and Sour Mash, with the only hiccup occurring when the new iphone 5 used for beta took a 300’ freefall halfway up the Black Velvet Wall. Oh well, at least it’s a broken phone, and not a broken limb or spirit. Memorable was being that guy who asked parties on neighboring routes for beta while we worked our way up another five star route in Black Velvet Canyon. “The next pitch says to work your way up left then right, and then, oh…you’re going to die.” Awesome.

The Black Velvet Wall is justifiably crowded: ironically, we didn't have to wait once on Sour Mash

Sunday brought another early start for a trail running photo shoot followed by breakfast and a departure to our respective homes. It brought an end to an impromptu Thanksgiving that is one for the books – a balance of great rock, weather, entertainment and time with great people. 2012 has been the year of making lemonade, and this was no exception.  

After 29 pitches in four days, it's time to get ready for winter

Fall 2012

When I say fall, what do you invision?

It’s been a while since the last entry, but not because I haven’t been out and about doing memorable things. Merriam provided a great bookend to the Sierra Alpine season, which brought with it the ambivalence of Summer’s end: Sadness to call an end to running around our nation’s mountain ranges in short sleeves looking for fun things to do in great weather contrasted by the excitement of watching trees turn their golden, red and orange hues, the crispness of the air, and a shift to different activities.

The fall colors aren't restricted to the trees

First stop was a trip back east to see good friends tie the knot and to see friends and family in New England. There’s nothing quite like driving through townships established in the 18^th century with grass being the only thing making their town greens green – their aged soft- and hardwood canopies painted with the palette of fall as the birches, sugar maples and oaks usher in the fall and winter months. A great time of year to put on a sweater – and a rain jacket, as it turned out – and enjoy the company of family and friends at home.

A typical October scene in New England

I was greeted at home with new technology, and something for which I’m most proud of my parents: Taking advantage of state incentives to make their home more sustainable and self-sufficient, I got to observe the installation of a 5kW solar system on the roof of the garage. What was previously a south-facing slant of asphalt shingles is now a functional and aesthetic black silicon power plant that through the photoelectric effect is now making the electric company pay my parents, instead of the other way around.

Panels to turn the meter backward

For someone who works in the renewable energy industry, I’m excited to see those closest to me taking steps to improve the earth, and we all get the geeky entertainment of logging directly into the system to see its output when the sun comes out and watch the meter on the side of the house turn backwards…swiftly.

A macintosh that doesn't have to apologize for its maps app: I love eating

A wedding happened in a part of New Jersey that I didn’t even know existed. Here I thought the state consisted of a turnpike, an aged and antiquated casino city, and a garden of industry helping to fuel the greater New York City metropolitan economy. What I witnessed was plucked from a movie set: rolling, manicured hillsides with old wood fences penning in horses and giving stately presence to the splendid homes of the 1%. Throw in a fine celebration to mark the union of two great people, reunion with an old friend, and the Jersey trip was well worth the effort.

Don't let a little overcast get you down: go find a new trail on Snake Mountain and make sure Dad is on board

One doesn’t vacation to New England in the fall to get immaculate weather. Usually there are at least a few brisk, sunny days making strolls through the foliage-bedecked hills mandatory, but even I was surprised to return to Vermont to two solid weeks of either rain or heavily-overcast skies. No matter, as the hospitality was more than warm, stomachs were never not full of the finest homemade goods, the seasonal fruits and vegetables heavenly and the fall colors better than any impressionist rendition. Besides, people flock to the desert southwest for the sunshine and warm temps, which is exactly what was next on the agenda.

Did I mention I love eating?

The flight pulled into Vegas on time…just in time, actually, for more rain and low pressure. Yes, rain in Vegas, and after stops for provisions, that rain continued all the way to Zion National Park. The best of intensions for rock climbs in that incredible cathedral of sandstone were for not: Three straight days of rain meant the stone was saturated. For both safety and proper climbing etiquette, climbing classics on wet sandstone is to be avoided, so after a perusal of the walls, Ian and I decided our plans for Zion would have to wait, as the necessary weather and time windows were not in our favor.

How do those things exist?

No matter: with the road winding through the park closed to all motorized traffic except for tour busses, what cyclist in their right mind would not pedal the miles of red chip seal with nary a car in sight? Certainly not this guy: One of our country’s most beautiful parks, and some of the best views to take in while breathing fresh air and cutting through the Virgin River Canyon on two wheels was not to be missed. Especially poignant was the post-apocalyptic visions of an entire two-laned roadway with only periodic pedestrians and cyclists. Where are all the cars? Who cares? Not me.

I don't see any cars here...nor did I for 12 miles

Not a surprise to see the Trek cycling vacations van parked at a local hotel.

Bryan decided it was time to stick our mits into some sandstone

With the Zion plans postponed to another season, it was time for the annual pilgrimage to the sandstone paradise that is southeast Utah. There is something about the glowing red sandstone of that part of the world - Arches and Canyonlands National Parks, Castle Valley, the Fisher Towers and Indian Creek to name a few highlights – that feels like home. 

Who loves fall in the desert? This guy

Maarten says it's time for some towers

Sure home has always really been New England, but the red hues of an exposed petrified sea floor have a special way of drawing you back, and reluctance to see you leave. When driving across the southern Utah high desert, I’m struck by how there are actually billboards I like: they are billboards telling the story of millions of years of geological history, they are everywhere you turn and they force you to get out of the car and stare in wonder while making your face hurt from smiling so much.

Billboards I can tolerate

Where the jamming is so damn good

Enough with the frothy eloquence: To Moab and to Indian Creek to be humbled by splitter cracks gracing Wingate walls. Days of climbing desert cracks never cease to provide at least two things: ample humble pie and reminders of how there is always room to get stronger at something. Desert life is simple, mostly made up of minimal ingredients: sleeping, climbing, eating, reading, conversations, story telling and a touch of tomfoolery. Throw them all together with a group of great people in a dramatic and mostly pristine landscape and you have the recipe for an unforgettable experience. Highlights included Ancient Art in the fishers, and lots of milage on many walls in the creek. 

"Damn I love the desert"

The views indicate you're in the right place

Alas, unlike some who call that part of the country home for months, I had to make my visit more temporary, and schedules had me fleeing westward back to the Sierra. For anyone making the trek across the southern Utah desert, it’s worth the detour to check out Monument Valley. It’s not a wonder that our Native American friends hold such reverence for that area: The towers are improbable, and the views majestic. The very existence and shape of the Mittens, the Totem Pole, the North Window all defy logic, and demand at least an hour of detour time in the trek from points a to b.

Worth the detour

After ogling and picture taking, it was time to express to the Eastside. Next came trips over to the Bay and Lovers Leap, and before I knew it, fall was coming rapidly to a close. Cool temps in the Sierra got cooler and snow blanketed nearly everything, which means it’s time for another season change, and here’s hoping for the coldest, snowiest season in memory. 

Lauren squeezes in one last lap on the granite before the temps drop and the snow falls

Still eating...this time a platoon of gingerbread soldiers

Fall, it's been great this year, and I bid you adieu 'til next

Merriam Peak

Merriam: worth the price of admission

Keeping things fresh and new is healthy in all aspects of life: changing up the diet to experience new things and find a new favorite dish, travelling to a new global location lending perspective to our developed, comparably posh American living, swapping authors to get a new literary taste.  

The objective: the triple cracks are in the dihedral in the middle of the shot...and they are delicious

It was high time to change things up a bit in the Sierra. Five straight weeks of ridge traversing: most all un-roped outings following precipitous ridgelines and experiencing constant movement at the various altitudes throughout the range. Though it did involve multiple trailheads, one neglected origin of Sierra adventure was noticeably neglected, and the more I thought, I remembered it had been over three years since my last outing out of Pine Creek Canyon. Funny, because a pair of ski tours originating from the area since, and the last time I left for a summer soiree all left me with the desire to explore the area more.

Pine Creek Canyon and all her glory

There is a presence in the canyon that is unmatched – in my opinion – by any other trailhead in the Sierra: You’re looking at 6k feet of vertical relief from the road to the Wheeler Crest, and coupled with color of the rock at all angles, the view is never old. Some might view the Tungsten mine and its accompanying aging infrastructure as a visual blight to the canyon. Sure, it’s a rusted metal vestige from postbellum times long past, but it gives the canyon scale: Like the clouds necessary to give dog-fighting jets a backdrop showcasing their maneuvers, the mine is the stationary, human scale at the bottom of the picture, giving a reminder to visitors they are surrounded by a nature that makes our mortal influence paltry in comparison. It doesn’t hurt that the roads constructed to reach the tunnels far above the mine evoke an image of access to the world’s great ranges, and you have a stage from which many good things can – and will – happen. Not a wonder Galen Rowell purchased stock in the mine back when he had the opportunity – if I knew it gave me a piece of the area and a stake in preserving its beauty for future generations, I would do the same.

On the mighty switchbacks by 0500: Lets get this party started

The trailhead also serves as another takeoff point for a variety of adventures in the Sierra. Are high-country fishing or low-key hiking, photography and backpacking your thing? It offers spectacular views of alpine lakes and peaks to sate your backcountry pallet. For Mike and I, it also offers a handful of alpine rock routes that are either queued for more ascents, growing in popularity, or patiently awaiting discovery. For this go, it was our turn to try our hand on the direct north buttress [DNB] of Merriam, a route many of our colleagues had done earlier this year with some fervor, and with some pictures posted begging a visit to the area.

Dawn, with her fingertips of rose. Views up were good...

Mike being a stronger climber, his original sights were aimed at the newly established Croft-Rands route. When Peter and Lisa put up a first ascent and you hear rumblings it might quickly attain ‘awesome’ status should his encyclopedia of Sierra alpine climbing be updated, making it an objective makes sound sense. I was not strong enough for the sustained 5.11 climbing, however, so the DNB became the objective. Not interested in lugging overnight gear back to Royce Lakes and setting up a base camp, we aimed for a car-to-car schedule having us back in civilization at a reasonable hour. After sorting gear in Rovana, we were moving towards the day’s objective by 0430.

...which also meant their accompanying reflections weren't so bad

Now the optimism I mentioned earlier about the trailhead is not shared by all, and frankly when you’re doing the seemingly endless switchbacks under a cloak of darkness where you only see the rocks strewn in front of you illuminated by the beam of your feeble phosphorous-tinted LED headlamp, it’s necessary to rely on your other senses to make the approach more bearable. With a diurnal breeze filling the branches of old growth cedar along the trail’s lower reaches and the murmur of the surrounding creeks filling the breeze’s lulls with a delightful white noise, the miles tick by and before we knew it, dawn with her fingertips of rose were lighting up the clouds overhead, and giving a most delightful reflection on the creeks underfoot.

My, that buttress looks good

“Pink in the morning, sailor take warning.” Mike mentioned. The forecast was ‘partly cloudy,’ which, when translated into Sierra dialect usually means abundant sunshine; as the hours ticked by, though, it seemed like we would experience a rare overcast day in the Range of Light. A novelty given the consistently good weather typical of these mountains, but given the approaching fall season and the aspect of our climb, such a meteorological projection was not conducive to being warm today. No matter…we came prepared.

After a quick stop to drop some gear, we finished off the talus approach to the base of the DNB, were roped, geared up and ro-cham’ing for the first lead by 0900.

"Damn I love rock climbing," Mike reports on pitch two, getting into the goods

In comes the beta. Thanks to chief on a combination of supertopo and summit post, a very good topo is available for the route. Mike and I both chose to link pitches as we swung the first leads. That meant we were at the base of the fabled “triple cracks” after just two pitches. The first pitch was forgettable: broken rock that was mostly stable, it was a ‘price of admission’ pitch to get us higher to the more quality granite above. Mike’s pitch included some fun moves on the face and skirting a bulge and tiptoeing on some loose blocks to the base of the obvious dihedral. Drawing analogies to the egregious coin tossing overtime possessions occurring in the NFL and how seasons can end based on a 50/50 flip of a silver dollar [if done right], I offered to ro-cham again for the delight of leading the 100’ of perfect granite hand cracks. Mike politely declined, calling it fate. Chivalry aside, it was up the cracks: well worth the price of admission as I climbed to just below the cozy, distinct alcove. If 100’ of #2 camelots on immaculate granite at 13k feet with sweeping vistas in the Sierra backcountry don’t put a smile on your face, I recommend seeking medical attention.

Triple cracks pitch: dreamy

Mike took over for the next two pitches and pulled the cruxes with ease. Steep hands to ‘tenuous lie-backing’ to wide crack was not a recipe for me to send clean, so Mike welcomed the offer to do double duty, and he did so with style. Well done, sir.

The gratuitous a-cheval shot...

One more pitch involving an airy fingers traverse under an enormous summit block was very memorable. 4^th and 5^th class scrambling with a gratuitous a-cheval move on a knife edge and we were sunning ourselves on the summit in a cloud break, sipping some cab and devouring the salty crunchy mix that justified bringing the Petzl Bug on the climb. 1330: not bad. The early start to the day, coupled with the 8+ mile approach and requisite technical climb almost caused a summit napping hour, but we delivered ourselves from the temptation in favor of attaining another objective: getting to the car without needing headlamps again.

...and the traverse in better style

“Should we go tag Royce because it’s there?”

“That choss doesn’t look like much fun.”

“Agreed.” 

“Let’s bounce.”

A muse once said "Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy"

The NE ridge descent was a delightful medley of well-behaved talus, boulders and sand. Within minutes we were gawking at the splitters on Merriam’s NW side and searching for the aforementioned Croft-Rands, and a few minutes more sorting gear at the nadir of Merriam’s north moraine as Mike was reunited with his stashed pack.

You have to look hard to see any sign of humans

We took an alternative descent – opting for a direct line to Pine Creek pass that has us walking across the Royce Lakes Basin. You might as well photo-shop a person into the Mars rover pictures, as the basin is a saunter across rocks, sand and sparse alpine grass ringed by red and white mountains…nothing more.

The descent: Merriam's NW face is full of splitters, and that summit block is memorable

I’m always slow on the descent as I oft sit, breath and liberally attempt to do digital justice to the scenes nearly unchanged from when the first trekkers visited in centuries prior. Sure we all lament at the end of a long alpine day how nice it would be to have the Sierra equivalent to the Aiguille du Midi or Montenvers to briskly shuttle us back to hot saunas and jovially-shared stories over libations of our choice, but it is also incredible to appreciate the efforts expended by our predecessors to ensure the only influence by man in our periphery are our foot prints. 

"...and miles to go before I sleep."

Mike and I spent 2/3’s of our day walking in places we didn’t see another footprint. Humbling. When will I be back to Pine Creek Pass again? Another three years? I should hope not, now that I know the rock and vistas that await another sortie to the area.

The hike out...solitude on a martian-esque landscape

Due to travels this year, my Sierra alpine season was abridged; I was able to get some things done, yet there are still many objectives remaining on the list.  

One of Pine Creek's many rock flavors

If Mr. Croft is still putting up memorable first ascents after spending the time he does here, I’m confident that objective list could balloon with a little effort and attention. For now, though, it is time to change gears: getting ready for fall and the adventures a changing season brings: keeping it fresh, and leaving some excitement for next summer’s alpine agenda.

The Profile shot: A splendid outing

Pine Creek: Lots to love

Gear: 
- Single rack camelot to 0.5, double rack 0.75 to 2, singles 3 & 4
- One set of stoppers
- 4 Alpine draws
- 5 biner'ed slings
- 70m 9.2mm bipattern

Nutrition: 
- 2 gu's, 1 package gu chomps
- granola bar
- delicious homemade deli sandwich
- 250g salty, crunchy concoction [assorted sesame stix, fritos]
- 500mL vitamin W: 2011 Cab Sav

Norman Clyde

By the hammer of Thor that ridgeline looks delicious

Every time I’ve been on the Temple Crag summit in the Sierra, one look to the south reveals an unmistakable ridgeline leading up to Norman Clyde Peak. Information is available describing the firebird ridge, but that is more to do with the final technical section leading up to the summit of Clyde’s namesake, and not much else I could find searching the tubes and the smattering of other beta I have on the range could say anything more about the ridge itself. The Firebird is a 5.9 Becky route, and the three other notable means of attaining Clyde’s summit are via the NE Ridge, Twilight Pillar and the true Palisade traverse.

Good morning, Palisades, I'm glad we're together again

Needless to say, the ridge looks great from afar – almost casual – until you get to the base of the peak proper – then the mountain juts nearly vertical to its 13389’ cap. With Andre and Leah making the trek from the south and aimed at the Palisades region, I shared with them my desire to take on the route, and because we’d be a party of three and wanting to move swiftly, they agreed to complete Norman Clyde via its NE Ridge and scope out this lower ridgeline that looks so tasty. The prerequisite for the day [besides the standard safety objectives] was to finish car-to-car activity in 14 hours – our previous outing together being a 21-hour push on the northerly section of the Palisades – making for a long but not uncomfortably long day in the Sierra.

On the ridge...liking what we're seeing, so far

The final part of the chosen route was described as ‘4^th class’ or ‘5.1R,’ and given our collective experience, we decided to make Norman Clyde the objective, and for full value add on the lower ridgeline.

The views on the way up weren't so bad

Because they were making the push from So Cal, we decided to keep things civil and meet at the trailhead, ready to move on by 0600. To keep things light and fast, we decided to leave all but the essentials at the car. We dispatched the rope and helmets as frivolities, leaving only food, water, caffeine, another layer and cameras occupying the volume in our minimalist packs. We were on the South Fork, Bishop Creek trail by 0615.

Yes that chute is skiable in the winter, and yes, that face of NC looks burl from here

The great part of the south fork trail is you have your objectives in your vision for almost the entire approach. Unlike its neighbor – the north fork – you only lose sight of the gorgeous Palisade skyline for a couple of sections of switchbacks as you head westward and gain elevation. We left the trail to begin our ridgeline approach a little over an hour after we started, and after some more tallus and boulder scrambling, and some 4^th/5^th class moves, we found ourselves on top of the ridge, headed for Norman Clyde…the long way.

"Quick Andre, look regal"

Note: a proud line would be to start at the very base of the ridge, but from my estimate that would involve multiple pitches of 5^th class, and once the true beginning of the ridge is gained, much up and down requiring roped climbing and belays. Seeing all that, and the start of the ridgeline having difficulty outside of our gear and time allowance, we headed for the first highpoint.

Looking northward was pretty nice

From Temple, the ridge looked casual. Up close and personal, it was not. There was much more 4^th and 5^th class moves involved than we had anticipated, making the time move slowly, the savior being once the true ridge is accessed, the rock quality stays high. There was one cruxy down-climb I would pin at 5.7, but beyond that, the ridge goes at 4^th/low 5^th. We reached the base of Norman Clyde a little after noon – much later than we expected, and collectively, we decided it would be wise to set a turn-around time as we got onto the NE face route: 1430.  

"Eat a sandwich, and chill the f* out"

A poignant part of the day was the constant question of ‘will it go?’ Retrospectively, it was very unwise of me to attempt something new with nearly no beta, and without at least some forms of protection: Even a rope, harness, belay device, helmet and rap tat would have provided some psychological security on the day when getting into questionable terrain. With the NE face of Clyde in the shade for the entire morning, it certainly looked menacing, and coupled with the unexpected difficulties of the approaching ridge, the question of completing objectives in our allotted time did not have a certain answer. Sometimes, such uncertainty is a good thing, sometimes, it is not.

After a snack and some decompression, smiles were visible again

The beta directed us to continue along the ridge until it got steep, then to duck onto the face for more 4^th class and the aforementioned ‘5.1R’ bits. We started to spot Cairns that led us in the right direction, and after stringing them together, the going got steep. Copious markings throughout the face indicated lots of rock fall occurred over the summer, but our experience on the route was tame and safe, but we remained vigilant. We did stray from the main ascent route – the crux of the day being the route-finding on the face - that meant pulling some harder moves in very exposed terrain to reach the summit ridge. I can faithfully say this is again where having at least some means of safety is necessary: it was a bit psychologically taxing to be en garde for the remainder of the route with only our sticky rubber as defense against a rather untimely fall.

Summit royalty: Mr. Croft has been up here a few times

A quick scramble across the summit ridge had us signing the register, snacking and snapping pics at our designated turn-around time. Particularly noteworthy is the lack of visitors to this summit: it is not a trivial ascent, and in just 20 pages, one can step back in time over 20 years to see some impressive names and feats. It was refreshing to sit, breath, take in the vista and decompress after the faulty route-finding on the upper sections, and get our wits in order for our return to the car – we were only halfway done.

Selfportraitography on the descent

Upon returning to the face for the descent, Andre astutely pointed out a more suitable descent path, and after much 3^rd class scrambling, some 4^th and low 5^th moves, we were passing the Cairns and working our way back along the lower firebird and down toward finger lake. The descent was to be much more civil than the ascent…phew. After a couple of last glimpses of the mighty Palisade skyline as the sun set, it was head lamps on and express descending to the trailhead. Much to my dismay, my first ever trailhead robbery of chilling celebratory beers in the creek was experienced 14.5 hours after our departure: I’ll ascribe it to my 30 min tardiness penalty for not meeting the day’s duration prerequisite.

Twilight, I'll come back for you...someday

In all, I would recommend the route to anyone. Bringing in what I’m calling the lower firebird gives the Norman Clyde ascent a true sentiment of full value. After staring at it all morning, it’d be a great to link the ridge with the twilight pillar: it would be a long day, but befitting for a summit bearing the name of a true Sierra legend. Such a day will have to wait for another time, however, as the high mountains are inching closer to the winter season. 

Steal one last glimpse before heading to the car

Ascent in green, descent in red. The descent had us in the moraine south of the ridge: much more civil than the ascent.

Evolution Traverse

Sunset bivy @4k meters? Yes please

In a second straight week of attempting to tie up loose ends, a desire to get back into the Evolution sub-range of the Sierra was proving very strong. Two years prior, Labor Day weekend, Steve B. and I went back on what turned out to be a recon mission scouting the route and seeing if it matched the hype. Timing dictated we did one day on the route, and we made it to Darwin with a descent down its eastern gullies during sunset.

"There is work to be done." Looking at Mendel on the recon mission in 2010. Photo: Steve Brezovec

I remember pulling Darwin’s summit block, picking up the copy of the origin of species placed there by a Harvard grad student and staring at the rest of the traverse – “That is a lot of rock to cover,” I whispered to myself. Like a shepherd’s crook, ‘Evo’ wrapped around a total of six other prominent summits [and a smattering of false summits] of the basin. After a day of ups and downs in 2010 getting to our highpoint, that remainder of the traverse looked long and challenging, a testament to the vision Peter Croft had back in 1999 when he shook down the first ascent after scouting various sections and putting the entire route together in a single push. From leaving camp to the final summit on Huxley, Croft’s time of 16 hours is impressive, so too is the report of being one of the finest routes in the Sierra, and the best traverses around. 

In the words of McDonalds, ba ba ba ba ba, I'm lovin it.

Fast-forward two years. It’s a big summer in the Sierra, with parties finishing the full Palisade traverse and Evo even being guided by a talented local, alpine routes were being ticked off at a great pace. It was time to think about this classic route again, but chumming the waters left only an empty pot of text messages and emails expressing unavailability and other priorities. With weather always a question, and days shortening quickly as fall approached, the window to complete Evo in 2012 was getting smaller. Then Thursday night I get a phone call from a friend of a friend – professor Miller, a Sierra veteran and no stranger to the world’s greater ranges had already planned a trip back there, and when a mutual friend couldn’t escape work duties, I could be a potential substitute partner with sights aimed at Evo. It was happening.

The hike in isn't so bad

Before I knew it, it was Friday afternoon and we were sorting out rations on the kitchen table. It was decided to do the route in two days: make it casual and stress-free by planning a bivy mid way through the traverse. It would involve climbing with heavier packs, but with neither of us having completed the full traverse before, and not inclined to blitz the route in a very long day – we were looking forward to the bivy in one of the Sierra’s most beautiful areas. Within 90 min, food was divided and neatly packed, gear parsed and stowed, and packs trimmed to the minimum: one night @ base camp in a BD packlight tent, two full days of climbing with at least one bivy on route and a potential second in the Evolution basin after summiting the final peak. We were on 395 trailhead-bound by 1415.

Dawn on the first day: It's going to be a fun 48 hours

Who was my climbing partner, and how was I committing to this adventure with someone I had never climbed with before? Sounds a bit inauspicious, but he came highly regarded by our mutual friend, we shared common interests and seemed like we would have no problem conversing and keeping things civil for the next 72 hours. Experiences we recounted with each other suggested we were on comfort levels with altitude and exposure, and with the desire to climb Evo burning hot in each of our furnaces, this mission was a go. Packed, sun-screened and ready to roll by 1530 at the North Lake trailhead.

To Mendel!

The approach to Lamark col is long, and will see you gaining over 3k feet, only to descend at least half of it to get to base camp: the Darwin bench. Very similar to the attempt two years prior, we topped out on the col at sunset, ogling at the largess of Darwin and Mendel before us and then getting to our base camp about 90 min later. I downed a freeze-dried dinner and we were fast asleep by 2130. “What time should we get up?” “0400, packed, ready, hydrated and moving by 0500.” “Sounds good.”

You'll get some exposure on route...guaranteed

Having both started the route before, getting things started in the morning was quick and to the point: We were on the upper ridge by dawn, and moving over onto the first peak – unofficially Mt. Gould – summiting our first mountain by 0830. It’s very easy to summarize the next 11 hours with one constant theme: stay true to the ridge line whenever in doubt, and look for the most plausible path. The rock is fantastic until the descent off Darwin, as I rarely grabbed a precarious block or find myself very far from a solid hand jam, chicken head or jug as we happily made our way from Gould over Mendel and Darwin. We did one rappel off Gould to expedite things, and roped up once to get on Mendel, but otherwise, the rope stayed on the pack until Darwin's descent.

Fill your hands: Darwin, we're comin' for ya

It should be noted that professor Miller is a well-trained biologist, with a specialty in evolutionary biology. That meant every summit on this Labor Day weekend was accompanied by interesting stories of the men whose names adorn these peaks. Gould apparently pushed a theory of punctuated equilibrium, wrote with frothy eloquence reflective of his education and loved to include snippets of baseball in his writings. We all know Mendel for his gardening skills, dominant and recessive genes in peas and Darwin? Well, there’s a reason for the highest peak in this sub-range taking on his name: He’s a titan when it comes to natural selection, and should you find yourself with a lot of extra time on his namesake mountain, there is a copy of his chez d’oeuvre waiting for your inquisitive thoughts. 

Professor, prepare to be on a summit...all day

Now for the crux: getting off Darwin. The gully is full of choss. As I tried to make the route safer one large loose block at a time, I was reminded by the grizzled mountain veteran “Trundling is ok until you have fun doing it, then you’re a delinquent.” We rapped twice shortly after Darwin’s summit, and were scrambling around ridgelines until voila! Peter Croft’s Golden Triangle. “I got it.” The professor quickly chimed, grabbing one end of the rope, racking up and taking off on the exposed fin of golden granite with a most spectacular backdrop. The descent off Darwin had taken longer than expected, and after taking extra minutes to dry out our sleeping bags on the summit, we found the sun angle to be getting increasingly lower.

Looking back: Mendel's sunny south side

It was now when the ingrained mountaineering instinct chimes in: “Sun is getting low, you should be descending or be very close to the easy, 2^nd class retreat from the route for safety.” Anxiety was building and a sense of urgency and shadow of doom began to descend on my spirit. “Remember,” I said to myself, “you’re bivying up here, so relax, and absorb yourself in the beauty of climbing impeccable granite during the golden hour.” It really takes a change in mindset to let that sink in: we had gone into this endeavor with the strategy of bivying on route. We had prepared for it properly, so instead of losing composure because the advancing hours at altitude, it really was time to stop, take a deep breath, and look around at the breathtaking vistas available at every angle of our periphery.

Darwin's Origin of Species, a little light summer reading on the summit

It’s worth noting that in the Evolutions, more than any other place I’ve been in the Sierra, you are completely surrounded by mountains: large mountains greater than 13k feet. Other climbs in the Sierra are mostly clustered closer to the Owens Valley. The mountains you summit are gorgeous with precipitous drops and views of the interior Sierra to the west, but usually they are close to the desert and its flat or undulating hills as the valley picks back up to the White mountains to the east. For all the cursing you might do getting over Lamark Col, this is the time where the effort pays off: you are immersed in a sea of vertiginous granite. For 360 degrees you turn and see signature and unnamed peaks, serrated ridges, deep valleys and isolated alpine lakes. Save for the occasional glimpse at a foot trail far below, some periodic rap tat and summit registers, there are no signs of human presence: It is humbling, and it is unforgettable.

Peter Croft's golden triangle during the golden hour: spectacular

We didn’t quite make it to Haeckel col on day one – the desired spot for a bivy. In early season, melting snow on Darwin for water is an option, but then it’s dry until Haeckel. In our case, we could have down climbed the east face of Darwin for a ways to get snow but it would have done us no good – we had no stove. Word to the wise: I’ve heard bringing a black bladder is a way of saving weight – keep it in the sun and the solar energy will overcome the latent heat of fusion and poof! Water. We bivied just shy of peak 13332: we carved out a spot and at least I slept comfortably. The temperatures were casual, and there is something to be said for crawling into your sleeping bag tired and fulfilled at 4k meters knowing you’re going to get an unparalleled view of sunrise in a few hours. And the evening alpenglow on the surrounding 13k foot peaks? Worth the price of admission.

Haeckel: The ridge line forming the right of the peak is our ascent route

Day 2: Because we were already at altitude and faced technical climbing off the bat, it was decided to leave a little later to let the temps warm up the rock a little. In hindsight, this is another reason for hitting Haeckel col: The ascent on Haeckel takes its wonderful 4^th class northwest ridge, so you could do that as the sun was rising and not worry about cold tendons and chilly rock. For us, it was a bit of rappelling and some technical moves on the 13332, and from there, 3^rd class across a ridge and a quick pit stop at Haeckel lake to fill up water.

Where is the granite? Everywhere

The lake was completely undisturbed and the views were [surprise] stunning. Because it wasn’t necessary for both of us to descend the ~300 vert to the lake, I volunteered and scampered down to the water. Another amazing view of a hidden gem in the Sierra, which brings about another theme of this route and area: Many of the peaks and locales here are worth a trip on their own, so you as a climber get to take them all in at once: another reason for making it more than a day and not rushing things. Case in point: above the lake back on the ridge was a little peaklet along the ridge: it was great to scramble up what certainly looked like a granite radio tower: two spikes of granite sticking 10’ up: you can chimney to the top and again feel like you’re on top of the World. When you’re pressed for time, little side excursions are all questioned in light of the objective: not being benighted.

To the ridge line stay true, and disappointed you will not be

Haeckel passed quickly [the ridge is a fantastic scramble], and we bested the time of a summit entry claiming 45 min to Wallace. With that much time between peaks, we figured we were going to wrap up this traverse and be back base camp in time for dinner…whoa were we naïve. There were a series of false summits en route to Fiske, and all passed uneventful, but after all that hiking and scrambling, the question starts to surface, “does this thing end?” 

Some 2nd class cruising

By the time we were on Warlow, with a glimpse at the last mountain of the traverse – Huxley – the sun was getting closer to the Horizon: we both began to wonder whether we were going to complete this thing in two days. “We could bivy below the peak, summit and get out tomorrow,” I proposed. “Nah, let’s gun it.” And the decision was made.

The rock was so. damn. good.

Huxley, as I learned from the professor – was considered “Darwin’s bulldog,” and in the case of the Evo traverse, it was a title befitting of the peak. At this point, psychologically, we were looking for more of a walk up to finish off the experience, but oh were we in for a change. For only the third time on the entire traverse, we roped up and led a pitch – first a 5.7ish hand crack followed by a 5.5 slab move: both on impeccable light granite and well protected. 

Fiske: you were a tough one..."Huxley doesn't look trivial."

After that, the rope went away for good as we meandered around gendarmes and pulled a couple of 4^th/5^th class moves to gain the summit. Again, it was golden hour at nearly 4k meters. Huxley is a great summit to end on, too: you see all your peaks you just traversed – the entirety of the route in front of you – a glimpse of the pure mileage of day 2 and seeing why it took so long. After pulling the moves, a technical finish was the best way to end the traverse – another sense of earning it.

Playing peekaboo on Huxley's ridge

After a quick summit entry post, pictures were snapped and a few moments were reserved to take a breath and attempt to absorb some of the last 48 hours. So much granite covered and so much fun. With the exception of the bivy, we were moving over terrain above 13k feet for a solid two days. Surrounded by the majesty of the Sierra, blessed with perfect weather and a great climbing partner and getting my hands and feet on mostly all solid granite. There are nearly endless things to do in this mountain range, and I expect everyone to have their opinion on what is their favorite thing to do in these mountains, or at least a short list. I know I have such a list, and this route is there.

Huxley's summit ridge: a worthy bookend to the route

We descended the gully as the sun was setting, and didn’t even need headlamps to finish off the descent to Evolution Basin. We bivied lakeside and I was excited to hike through the basin in the morning. Considered by some to be one of the most beautiful sections of the JMT, the Evolution Basin stretches along the east side of the Evolution range. As we walked past gorgeous alpine lakes and soaked in the morning sun, we had only to look up to see all of what we had done the two days prior. It’s worth an overnight in the Basin alone, but we had miles to go, and our fleeting time in the alpine paradise was running out.

Alpenglow as we descend Huxley

The Professor’s eagle eyes spotted base camp in the sea of boulders on the Darwin bench, we refueled and huffed are fatigued carcasses over Lamark col and found ourselves back in Bishop for happy hour at Whiskey Creek.

A morning exit out the Evolution basin: worth an extra bivy

We rappelled what is considered by many to be the crux – the descent off Darwin. As for the rest of the climbing, we didn’t experience anything harder than 5.8, and when it comes to beta, though there is an increasing amount of detailed information appearing on the web these days, consider the simplicity of Peter Croft’s advice: “Stay true to the ridge.” Crazy but true: seldom did we stray from the ridge, and nearly every time the route finding got a little vague, we just got back up to the high points of the ridge, shrugged our shoulders at the improbability that the route continued to go in such a manner. 

The hike out isn't so bad

We only roped up three times, and placed each piece of protection [hooray for no frivolities]. I recall a total of 4 raps on route, two to get off Darwin, one off Gould and one or two mixed in the rest of the peaks. One thing that was repeated surprising was during the second day: you’ll go from high exposure and consequence to 2^nd class hiking with no threat back to puckering ridgelines in the span of two hours. Where else does this happen all day?  

"Where were we for the last two days?" "Up there."

The summit registers revealed we were the 9^th party on the route this year, this after 3 in 2011 – a rise in popularity justifiable for the quality of the route.

I don't recall a moment in three straight days that wasn't picturesque

Instead of detailed beta, I offer a map overview:like google maps with traffic, green implies we’re moving quickly: 2^nd/3^rd class. Yellow means slower 4^th class with some exposure. Red means 5^th class and moving carefully or even roped up. B’s are belays, R’s are Rappels. 

Eight miles of bliss

After attempting the route two years ago, its completion had always simmered as I planned out weekends and outings in the Sierra. In hindsight, the only thing to change would have been starting earlier on day 1: getting us to Haeckel Lake to fill up on water. Interesting, though, if we had done that, we would not have bivied high on the ridge, which I thought was one of the highlights of the trip. A splendid outing, worth a return in the years to come…perhaps to do it differently, perhaps to repeat the experience.

Professor and the madman: couldn't think of a better way to spend Labor Day weekend 2012 Gear:  Cams: 1 each BD 0.4,0.5,0.75,2 #1 Link Cam 1 Lucky hex three bail stoppers 5 slings, 2 alpine draws 50m 7mm dynamic rope bipod bivy sack 15deg 800 fill down bag big agnes sleeping pad Nutrition:  6 Gu's 2 Deli sandwiches 2 Freeze dried meals [chicken vindaloo: 2/5 stars, spicy thai with peanut sauce 4.5/5 stars] 1/4lb spicy oriental trail mix  8 granola bars 1 probar 1 piece of Professor Miller's wife's chocolate cake

Thunderbolt to Sill

Never a bad day in the mountains: saving the rest of the traverse for another day

Thunderbolt to Sill was attempted 4^th of July weekend 2011 with RC and ended with a premature truncation of the route by bailing down the U-notch. We didn’t hit our time splits and altitude was taking its toll. Better to come back to finish the entire thing than risk heavy AMS, dodgy evening descents down the L-shaped snowfield and major second-guessing of decisions. It was a huge snow year in the Sierra and there was enough rap tat down the notch to cloth a small village in India: bailing down U-notch was simple, and a traverse of the ‘schrund at its base was quick and easy: We were back at camp soggy from glissading the still bountiful snowpack, happy to be sipping scotch and watching the rare display of mammatus clouds gracing the Sierra High country.

Mammatus clouds at Sam Mack: better than any fireworks display

Fast forward to 2012. A kiting outing on Lake Crowley Tuesday left RT and I with thoughts of doing something in the Mountains. “I haven’t done T-bolt to Sill.” “Well, I need to finish it, let’s do this.” Turns out food poisoning and familial obligations made the route infeasible for RT, so Friday morning I was looking at a basket of Lemons: “I don’t really want to solo anything, waters have been chummed to no avail, so how now?” A quick text to Andre revealed he and his wonderful wife Leah were doing the route car to car in memory of their fallen pull harder colleagues Ben and Gil. They were cool with a third, so there it was: “0130 in the Glacier Lodge hikers parking lot.” Phew…car to car routes in the Palisades make for long days, exactly what the doctor was prescribing for the first solid weather weekend to grace the Sierra in weeks.

It's how early? And we've been hiking for how long already? Better caffinate...again

Making lemonade out of lemons has been a theme all year. Starting with John Dittli’s appearance on the dirtbag diaries in January, it’s still a tune sung through August and this weekend was no exception. With the monsoon system finally inching out of the Sierra, it was time to start thinking bigger again: long days and many miles, and with an 11^th hour admittance to the Palisade party, this lemonade was taking a turn for the sweeter.

Fits of sleep bivying in the Glacier lodge parking lot meant ~1.5 hours of semi-conscious dozing: not the best way to start out a big day, but at least it beats no sleep at all. Sure enough, Andre and Leah were ready to roll with their minimalist backpacks and trail-running attire at 0130. “I’m bringing a lot of caffine,” Andre declared. Quick mental check: I had scotch, Teddy Grahams, peanut butter m&m’s and a magic combo of Cheeze-its and Fritos. No caffine though, so hopefully adrenaline and the excitement of the route would be enough…we’re about to find out.  

Dawn, with her fingertips of rose casting alpenglow on Winchell

A thing to know about Andre: It’s a good thing he was feeling ill from the poor sleep he endured the night prior, because if he was at 100%, there would be slim chance I could keep pace with him and his minimal gear on the approach, let alone the climb. I had never met Leah before [what’s a better way to meet a person than a long day in the Range of Light?], but judging by the equally minimal and efficient equipment - and pink calf warmers - she meant business too. What have I gotten myself into? Hiking by 0145.

Those pink calf warmers imply she's all business

Now the north fork of Big Pine Creek is long…in some cases excruciatingly long. It’s one of only a few ways to get back to the Palisades, and if you’ve done it a few times, it’s inefficient vertical gain make ipods critical to maintaining sanity. Good thing conversation on the way up made the milage tick by quickly. Refilling water at Sam Mack meadows at 0500. We aimed climber’s right at the end of the meadows and found the ascent of the waterfall/snow field to be surprisingly civil. A brisk shower first thing in the morning to get the proverbial juices flowing, one might say.

Hide and seek at 14k feet

We were dancing across the house-sized boulders of the northern Palisade glacial moraine in no time, and before we knew it, Dawn with her fingertips of rose was lightening all our moods, and increasing our excitement for the day ahead. It was also illuminating the choices for our Thunderbolt ascent: Andre and I had ascended T-bolt via different means in our previous work: Andre via the north couloir, and my from the Dolphin fin at the base of T-bolt’s north ridge. Because of hardness of the snow pack, our comparably feeble Al crampons-approach shoe combo, and fond memories of the rock quality and fun on the north ridge, the consensus was the north ridge rock route. Geared up, sunscreen on and gearbox in four-low by 0710.

Andre, pulling hard on the T-bolt summit block

The north ridge is a gem, and the last vertical to gain 14k’ passed efficiently. We were pulling the summit crux by 0930. What followed along the next three summits was a recurring theme: jam, smear, scramble and jug haul up solid, gorgeous granite, stop for a minute to catch breath, admire views and snap photos, scramble, rappel…repeat. I recalled a quote from a wise fellow when I first moved to the area years ago. “Oh, you’re looking for fantastic views, and great mountains, head to the Palisades.” He was correct.

A typical view

Every trip up to this sub-range of the Sierra is memorable. The mountains themselves are gorgeous, the rock is mostly of sound constitution and you’re actively positioned at 14k feet in the heart of the High Sierra. Such a position fills 270 degrees of your periphery with precipitous granite faces and deep, lake-filled valleys, which, combined with said altitude takes your breath away. You may well find yourself desiring a nap on the summit and an insatiable appetite to stare at the surrounding beauty until it’s absolutely necessary to return from whence you came…alas, there are many miles before we sleep, onward!

Leah, showing us how it's done on Starlight's milk bottle

Memorable moments were watching Andre consume his milky white concoction on the milk bottle after squeeze-exiting [read: second-birthing] the boulder tunnel to achieve Starlight’s summit. Most poignant is just stopping periodically to take in the splendor. Spending most of my time on the ridge between Andre and Leah, I happily mimicked dual-faced Janus: watching Andre scamper ahead, Leah chase quickly and in both cases, having human foregrounds to sweeping vistas and jaw-dropping exposure. As we passed the U-notch, we witnessed first-hand the double-whammy of a low snow year and warm August afternoon: Rock and water were streaming down the couloir and their sounds reverberated with spine-cringing amplitude off the steep granite walls forming the Notch boundary. “There is no place I would rather not be than in the U-notch right now,” I voiced aloud to myself. Well, maybe Syria or the boardroom at Samsung, but I digress.  

When in doubt, pull harder

The first moves out of the notch were the only place we roped up as a team with a leader placing gear outside of the two exposed summits on T-bolt and Starlight. Only two nuts placed, the moves did not seem harder than any on the rest of the day, but I was not on the sharp end [well done, Andre]. A short scamper to the top of Polomonium brought more summit pictures and confidence that the route would be finished with plenty of time. Thinking back to the 2011 attempt, it turns out after the aforementioned first pitch out of U-notch, the route is mostly 2^nd and 3^rd class ridge hiking, so advice going forward is if light remains, and parties are properly prepared for descents down the L and glacier notch, gun it for Sill: It’s worth it.

The couple still smiling on North Pal

We made the final slog up to Sill and were high-fiving, replenishing calories and sipping vitamin G by 1530.

Alas, after some summit shots and finishing off the crunchy salt combo I had assembled, it was time to face the descent. Having done Sill’s superb Swiss arête a few weeks prior, I was concerned mostly with the descent off glacier notch. It turns out our Al crampons were needed for a short distance down the L-shaped snow field, but climbers looking to negotiate this route in the remainder of the 2012 alpine season can probably escape this by crossing from its north to southern side to stay on 3^rd-4^th class rock. We had lugged the crampons all the way here, why not finally use them and avoid the frivolity of leaving them in the pack all day?

V-notch, I don't want to be in you either

The Palisade glacier was not in the best of shape: lots of running water and with all the surface snow melted, we were surfing down large piles of active tallus and carefully stepping down ice-embedded boulders to regain the safety of the moraine. We breathed a collective sigh of relief as we boulder-hopped our way back to cairn-and-trail territory 13 hours after departing. After another nip of scotch and a snack we were hamming it up with San Diego campers at Sam Mack and refilling water by 1930.

Vitamin G? don't mind if I do. Photo: Andre

Conversation on the descent was a welcome distraction from the monotony of the aforementioned trail and only the last two miles required ear buds to get us to the parking lot. Finally…the LED reflection off license plates meant “Ocean in view, oh the joy.” It was all I could to exchange my mountain attire for more comfortable sleeping wear, devour the remainder of the Teddy Grahams [mmmm, cinnamon], and face plant on my sleeping pad. Although it seemed Andre was ready to down an espresso shot and go repeat what we just did again [but faster], I was done. Celebratory beers were even postponed for a to-be-determined delayed gratification as I stumbled back to the turbo motel.

I'm smiling too. For good reason

It was 21 hours car to car: not a speed record by any means, but that was not the intention. Sure, speed is safety, so we weren’t completely lackadaisical in our efforts, but there were other motives to the day. Perfect Sierra weather begged many pictures taken, summit tomfoolery, honoring the spirit of departed friends, and establishing new friendships. I count myself very fortunate Andre and Leah allowed me to accompany them on their mission and I’m convinced every moment in the Palisades is time well spent. It was ironic that in the summit registers remaining on the peaks, we found most prevalent Ben and Gil’s entries from their full Palisade traverse in May this year. May their gumption for adventure live on, and may the 2012 batch of lemonade continue to flow with excess: all the more poignant that it is bitter and sweet, simultaneously.

Summit team shot. That was some delicious lemonade

Gear:

• Harness and belay device
• 60m 8m dynamic cord
• five slings
• four stoppers

Nutrition

• 2 pro bars [thank you, Chris]
• 1 ziplock of a frito/cheeze-it combination
• 1 large deli sandwich
• 3 granola bars
• 1 bag craisins

North Peak/Conness Linkup

With the monsoon flow still entrenched over the sierra, it was time to plan an alternative to the bigger mountains: something fun and fast, allowing for a quick and safe bail should weather move in swiftly. A quick perusal of Peter Croft’s sierra climbing encyclopedia had the perfect answer: Mt. Conness’ North Ridge. Why not throw in some low angle AI3 on North Peak’s North Couloir for good measure – a good excuse to sharpen the tools and mix things up a bit.

Turns out my good friend RC got a hall pass from the fiancé for one day in the mountains…would the weather hold off? It was time to stop playing the tepid weather waiting game and commit: Start early, get good views westward for the encroaching storm, move swiftly and safely and have a great time.

“Who wants to hike in 10lbs more gear for calf-burning AI3 anyway? Let’s stay in approach shoes and blast North Peak’s NW ridge instead.”

“No objections your honor…let’s do this.”

Sure there's neve and ice in there, but our packs are so much lighter

With the route decided, it was up to Mother Nature as to how far we got. An early start to avoid the weather as best we could, and a bail point between North Peak and Conness were our solutions to the weather conundrum.

“Should we bring an uber light rack and tag line in case we get blitzed by weather or the 5.6 down-climb hits us harder than expected?”

“If we don’t use it, it’ll be training weight…safety first.” Done

A bivy in sage brush outside Lee Vining brought a bedtime by 2200, followed abruptly by an 0400 alarm. “I need to make coffee.” “Of course you do.” Dropped a car @ the mobil, a quick drive up to saddlebag lake and we were on the approach by 0500. No real problems with the trail – by the time we didn’t need headlamps anymore, we were already at Steelhead Lake.

North Peak: Your NW ridge is a good one

A couple of boulder-y low 5^th class moves on North Peak’s north ridge, and the rest of the way to the summit was just an aesthetic ridge hike – albeit with grand exposure on the east side and great views of the surrounding basins. Grabbing summit pics in the shy sunshine and an early lunch at 0815. “Man, Conness’ North Ridge looks fantastic, and I think the weather is going to hold.” “Oh yes, today is going to be a great day.”

Well, that was fun...weather is cooperating for now, and damn that N ridge of Conness looks fantastic

A quick scramble down North Peak’s SW scree/talus field had us on the North Ridge proper, and the clouds were getting dark and dense over Conness quickly. It was decided to continue until the climbing got committing or rain/thunder/lightning impaired progress – allowing us a retreat back down the north ridge from whence we started – the moraine looked surprisingly straightforward and the first part of the north ridge proper was low consequence. Before we knew it, we were at the crux down climb, and even blue skies above. Glory! The downclimb was quick and uneventful, with holds appearing at just the right spots. The rest of the route was also quick – almost too quick for because it was so fun. We took plenty of time to stop at the plentitude of incredibly picturesque rocky outcroppings with precipitous views to the Conness glacier below.

So. Much. Fun

On the summit by 1030, with only a couple sprinkles to speak of. “Should we go fire the west ridge too?” “We got lucky with the weather already, let’s not push our luck…I’m sate.” Lots of photos, another thawed burrito, much conversation and gawking at the surrounding beauty and we were on our way down the east ridge to the descent. Within a mile of the car the skies undertook a most rapid change of attitude: going from bluebird to corn-kernal-sized hail in the span of 20 min. We ducked from the painful hail under some white bark pines, and within 30 min, we were safely drinking our chilled epic IPA’s at the car: 1400, 9 hours after we started. What a day.

C is for Crevasse, E is for exposure, G is for Glacier

In summary, not an epic Sierra adventure, speed record or jaw-dropping story for grandchildren, but a fantastic day in the range of light with a great friend. This summer, the theme is playing the hand you’re dealt, and in this case, I’d say we got a solid two-pair with two great routes, a well-budgeted weather window and a climbing partner as stoked as I was.

Conness’ North Ridge is unforgettable and justifiably worthy of the ‘great’ branding bestowed by Mr. Croft’s two stars. I don’t think I grabbed anything but bulletproof fine-grained Sierra granite, cemented chicken heads and finger locks/hand jams that would make pure face climbers think about changing their ways [el jefe…]. We played the weather card almost to perfection, and the beers were oh-so-tasty and worth the 3 min detour to strategically stash them in saddlebag lake.

The weather doesn't look that bad...

That one's going in the W column for Win.

Gear:

• Approach shoes with sticky rubber
• 60m 7mm tag line – unused
• slim rack of five pieces and a set of nuts and rap ribbon – unused
• harness: unused

Nutrition:

• 2 frozen burritos
• 1 Pro bar
• 1 granola bar
• snack food
• 2L water

Operation Occupy Iceberg

Operation Occupy Iceberg: A plan originally hatched in 2011 with a Mr. Jeffery Hebert, permits for the Whitney Zone were strategically acquired in April 2012 and the foundation was laid: Get a posse of great people for deluxe camping at Iceberg lake at the base of Mt. Whitney’s east buttress and prepare to climb as many Sierra alpine classics in the area as we could when August’s delightful weather came around.

Fast forward to the month of Augustus. With the low snow year, the alpine season was off to a great start 

with people devouring lines up and down the Eastern Sierra 

[a direct contrast to 2011, where many alpine routes were not dry until September]. Occupy Iceberg was shaping up to be great…until a most persistent and strong monsoon system pushed its way inland and stayed put for two weeks – everyone on the invite list abandoned due to weather, work or alternative plans. Things didn't look good. In an even more inauspicious start to mission fulfillment, Mr. Hebert’s flight was diverted back to LA from Mammoth due to the same weather system raking the local airport with vicious crosswinds – making the logistics that much worse. Better to order a beer at happy hour and let things sort themselves out.

The weather influenced travel as well as climbing plans

I got a call while sipping my beer and nibbling my truffle-oil saturated polenta cakes: “I met a couple of dudes in the same predicament…we’re renting a car and driving to Mammoth. See you in six hours. Booyah.”

With strong weather still making a trip to the Whitney zone and it’s multitude of classics a bit precarious, we decided to wait a couple of days and formulate a plan B while the weather situation improved. A Tarantino-esqe summary before the body:

Day 1: Laurel’s NE gully

Day 2: Cardinal Pinnacle: West Face, Cucumbers, V8 crack

Day 3: Logistics/approach

Day 4: Star Trekkin, Mt. Russell

Day 5: East Face/East Buttress linkup, Mt. Whitney

Day 6: Mithral Dihedral, Mt. Russell

Jeff’s arrival in Mammoth in the posh soccer mom rental minivan occurred at 0200 on Friday. “Let’s sleep for a couple hours and fire a low fifth class piece of hero rock right above the airport…it’ll be chill and perfect for acclimation.” “Ok.”

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Suns out, guns out on Laurel's NE gully

Day 1: Bivy at the trailhead and a leisurely 0700 wakeup had us fueled, hydrated and ready to hit the trail by 0745. Laurel’s NE gully is a lesson in constant movement, gorgeous geology and beautiful views of the Convict Lake region. Summit pics and lunch happened by noon and we were swimming in the lake and drinking beers by 1430 – the weather was being fickle, but in all, locally we were in the clear but still glad we didn’t aim immediately for the big mountains.

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Hey Jeff, Mt. Laurel is glad you paid a visit

Happy Hour ensued, as did planning for the next day. Weather report was not good: “Major storms with ½ - ¾ inch hail expected…flash floods…downpours…strong winds…” Like any mountain range, whether those conditions would hit us in our designated area was not certain, but with percentages north of 40% and consequences of validating said weather as high as they were, it was enough to consider another plan b.

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The author on Cardinal Pinnacle's upper west face. Photo Jeff Hebert

Day 2: For a consolation prize, we set a course for technical granite climbing at elevation on Cardinal Pinnacle. All routes climbed on that stellar piece of granite were fun, well protected and aesthetic. “The pinnacle looks like a mini Hulk.” “Yes, yes it does.” After a Whiskey Creek happy hour, we witnessed one of the most impressive lightning storms I’ve ever seen in the Sierra.

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Tall Swede, lots of granite: "kinda looks like a mini hulk" - I'll let the ladies determine whether that refers to the man...or the rock

“Never was the decision to avoid Iceberg for another day so validated.” “True, true.” Hot-tubbing ensued in a Mammoth downpour and our worries about the situation dissolved in the soothing warm water. It was decided to look at the weather again in the morning – the monsoon was expected to push out the next day – and make a final call for heading in for the real objective.

Immaculate granite and exposure: a double whammy of good

Day 3: Morning weather reports looked promising, so the decision was to go for it. Logistics were worked out, provisions acquired and miles logged to Whitney Portal. On the trail with heavy packs [this was to still be a posh camping experience, albeit without the summer-dress bedecked camp chef and liters of wine] by 1500. Mr. Hebert set a blistering pace up the north fork trail and – to our surprise – we were setting up camp by 1830 above Iceberg Lake.

Jeff, on the gorgeous approach to Iceberg

We watched the sunset as we cooked dinner and sipped the vitamin G. I would argue the Whitney Massif makes one of the most dramatic vistas in the Sierra. This is a bold call, I know, as the Sierra is brimming with awe-inspiring chunks of breathtaking, humbling, gorgeous chunks of granite, and everyone should have their own opinion. When I sit above iceberg lake and take in the shear vertical of Whitney’s buttress and face, and its regal Needle neighbors, I’m left without words, and reduced to the wide-eyed little boy that forgets everything else needing attention and just stares in wonder.  

Views of camp, and from camp did not suck

We decided on the routes for the next day [thank you for the beta, Jimmy B]: climb star trekkin with double ropes, rappel the Mithral Dihedral and climb it, summit and head back to camp – maximize the classic pitches on Russell’s SW face.

Day 4: 0600 wake up call, breakfast and off to the Whitney Russell Col. At the col by 0730. “Damn Russell looks amazing.” “Yeah, it also looks as cold as the ice cream sandwich we ate two days ago, let’s wait for the route to get in the sun.” We paused for a bit, then the sun inched closer to the splitter crack that is Star Trekkin and we were bound for the golden granite face like pilgrims on a Hajj. Roped up and ready to go by 0900. The first loooong pitch is ok, but the real money comes in the next few pitches. The crux 10c is passed and it’s jamming galore until you either run out of gear, or you get too pumped.

Let the routes warm, and let us climb

Plenty of beta out there on the tubes so I’ll leave out the details and just say the picture on the front of the super-topo high sierra book is justified: ST and it’s next-door neighbor the Mithral are a pair of uber-aesthetic alpine rock climbs worthy of anyone’s tick list. We topped out after the wide last pitch and I was worked. Timing was more conducive to a nap and descent to camp, so we decided Mithral would wait. That sun was glorious…as was the short bit of lost consciousness at altitude to dream and relax. 

"Perhaps I'll give this jamming thing a try"

Summit tomfoolery was necessary to commemorate 

the last Russell summit

, and after a civil descent down the 3

rd

 class gully, We were back to camp with plenty of time to cook up a feast and sip some vitamin G while the sun played with the remaining clouds in the sky.

More Summit tomfoolery

. Spock, we salute you. Photo Jeff Hebert

Day 5: We linked up the East Face and East Buttress of Mount Whitney in a day. Because we camped at the base of Whitney, that meant a leisurely start. Now, this linkup has been done in much burlier fashion by many a hard man and woman, but we were geared to make this climbing trip less about hard, and more about pure enjoyment. The exposure on the east face is worth writing home about, but compared to the east buttress, this author opines there isn’t a comparison: East Buttress is far superior. 

East Face exposure is worth the price of admission

After a top out on the fourth class of the face, we were greeted by a summit that – at the time of our arrival – had already seen 82 people that day. Wow...on a Tuesday? Popular indeed. Summit pics, lunch and digital interaction with a rather photogenic marmot had us descending the mountaineers route with an aim at completing the linkup in good time.

You and 83 others on top of the contiguous US' highest peak

There were no indications of a storm – just some puffy cumulous filling the sky, this already in the early afternoon. At the base of the buttress our fate was sealed: “

Let’s do this

.” Blasting the first ~3 pitches without rope meant we were moving quickly…but not as quickly as the weather. Thor made his presence known with thunder claps and Zeus threw in some lighting to boot – we were lucky it was only inter-cloud, but the thunder was instantaneous, and cause for much consternation. “I pray thee, make haste.” And haste was made. In all, we stayed in our approach shoes for the entire climb, never felt unsafe, and roped for only two pitches. By Zeus’ beard the rock quality on the East Butt will live on in my dreams for eternity.

Slightly different summit scene the second time around: Solitude on top of America

We avoided major electrical hazards and after some brilliant lighting on the barren summit [all previous visitors had hastily departed] and another snack, it was apparent from the neighboring storm cells that we got lucky – neighboring parts of the range were getting rained on…a lot. An hour later and we were happily brewing up tea at camp.

Don't be late for dinner, and avoid the trudle fallout in the Mountaineer's Chute

Day 6: It was time to return to Mithral: We’d wait as long as we could for that section of the mountain to get sun, and then fire. Only problem was the memory of our run-in with Thor the previous day: There were thunderheads forming to the south, so after a brief pause for more warmth, Jeff was off on the first pitch. Clouds continued to form as Jeff used some sling improvisation and liberal simul-climbing to reach the base of the Dihedral: Strong work, Jeffrey. Clouds still forming…but oh that dihedral looks so damn good. I couldn’t help but reference one of my favorite

Patitucci photos

from the previous decade: A scene when they were stormed off the same route with faces glossed in worry. They were forced to bail in the midst of a fast-moving storm bringing snow and electricity. “Let’s try to avoid that.” “Agreed.”

Stem, jam, layback and face climb your way to the top of this gem

I’ll just say the Mithral is worth the hype. Jamming and dihedral moves at 13k feet with wild exposure and incredible views fuels the very fire to be strong and to get outside. The final move up the layback is a phenomenal finish to the technical portion of the route and a most fitting bookend to the climb – worthy of the back cover of Peter Croft’s dictionary of how to enjoy the Sierra alpine. 

Mithral top-out, I love you. 

Wow…but the clouds still formed, and by the time we both hit the last anchor, 

Thor was above us again and he was angry. This time, it was with hail, some snow and rain. After the fourth class scramble to the summit, it was an electrical storm, prompting a very fast descent of the peak to low, safer ground. Once out of the immediate danger, we gathered our thoughts as we grabbed a bite to eat under a boulder…a collective sigh of relief was cast and we were on our way back to camp – just in time for some timely sun rays on Iceberg lake.

Thor and Zeus on Russell? thatjusthappened.com Photo Jeff Hebert

“That was so fast, we have plenty of light to get back to the car…we have beers waiting.” “You are a wise man, Mr. Hebert…I pray thee, make haste.” We were packed up and ready to roll in no time. After finishing up the Scotch emboldening the joints for the pounding 3.5k foot descent, we were off. Back to the Portal before it closed to get a recap on the drama that was a lost hiker on the portal trail the previous day and to get the scoop from Miles on his new route on Keeler –

Blood of the Monkey

. We jumped in the car and were eating fetus-sized burritos at Las Palmas in Bishop by 2115.

Lighting on our final descent was brilliant. Photo Jeff Hebert

This marked one of the first long-term planning [six months being long term in my current sphere of chaos] done for a trip in the Sierra. If that’s what it takes to lure Mr. Hebert and other friends from far away, I’d do it again in a heart beat but how the itinerary played out is a testament to remaining flexible and open minded – and always having a plan b. If I were to foresee a theme emerging for the 2012 year it’s ‘playing the hand you’re dealt,’ or more simply, ‘lemonade.’ Plans required shifting, and they were…for the better. We made sure both of us were properly acclimated ensuring our time at Iceberg and at 14k feet was as good as it could be. And when plan B involves “great” routes in Croft’s chef-d'œuvre, that doesn’t hurt either.

Soak in the view one last time

We originally planned on having five days at Iceberg lake with a large posse – there were even promises of a camp chef in a summer dress [ahem, Julie, tears were shed in your absence], and liters of delicious vino. When a Cascadian weather front decided otherwise, the copious alternatives in the Sierra did not disappoint. So here’s to having a plan B, maintaining a positive attitude and having a spectacular time with great people in the Range of Light.

Strategically placed brew dogs bringing closure: Huge. Win.