Sunlight a GO, kind of

For all you uphill ski junkies that can't wait to fight gravity and feel the early season thigh burn the uphill skiing at Sunlight just out side of Glenwood Spring Colorado is not to bad.  The downhill turns get about a D- so be careful. I managed a couple laps in via Sun King. The views and having the mountain to myself were priceless.

A Quote from Gaston Rébuffat

" In this modern age, very little remains that is real. Night has been banished, so have the cold, the wind and the stars. They have all been neutralized: the rhythm of life itself is obscured. Everything goes so fast and makes so much noise, and men hurry by without heeding the grass by the roadside, its colour, its smell and the way it shimmers when the wind caresses it. What a strange encounter then is that between man and the high places of his planet! Up there he is surrounded by the silence of forgetfulness. If there is a slope of snow steep as a glass window, he climbs it, leaving behind him a strange trail. If there is a rock perfect as an obelisk, he defies gravity and proves that he can get up anywhere."

 From Starlight and Storms

Photo by Glen Denny

The Back Door Approach to Forbidden Peak

The National Park Service limits overnight access to vulnerable areas as a way of reducing human impact on our pristine wild lands. I’m all about keeping our wild places wild by reducing foot traffic and tent platforms until these limitation interfere with my climbing plans (Just kidding). The restrictions do present climbers with limited time an added challenge. When my friends Ben and Spruce and I headed to the North Cascades to Climb the West Ridge of Forbidden Peak the overnight use limitations proved to be a pain in the butt. This inconvenience lead us off the typical path to the summit of  Forbidden Peak, where we found a great out of the way adventure.

On July 19th 2012, Ben, Spruce and I left Seattle in a light rain and overcast grey skies steaming coffee in hand. This was not the best climbing weather by Colorado standards but we were fueled with optimism. Our goal was to hike into Boston Basin and climb the West Ridge of Forbidden Peak the next day. Both Boston Basin and Forbidden Peak are extremely popular destinations. The West Ridge is one of North America’s 50 Classic Climbs per Steck & Roper making the peak insanely popular and crowded. As we raced excitedly towards the Marblemount Washington Ranger Station, the gateway to the North Cascades National Park, I had no idea getting permits to stay in Boston Basin was more unlikely then taking Cindy Crawford to prom.

With a massive smile on his face, the greenback Ranger at the desk told us no permits for Boston Basin remained. My heart sank. He told us eagerly about other great hikes in the park. Hike, are you kidding me? I don’t hike. I walk to the start of a rock climb. But that’s not hiking. This wasn’t just a great opportunity to climb a classic but was my traditional birthday climb. Hiking was not going to get the better part of me.

Ben in a moment of genius noticed the adjacent Torment Basin might offer us a “back door,” into Boston Basin. The topographical map showed a ridge separating the two Basins. “There has got to be a weakness in the ridge that will allow us into Boston Basin,” I thought. No one had a permit for Torment Basin. Game on. This was our way to sneak into Boston Basin and get the job done.

As the newbie ranger scribbled our names onto a permit for Torment Basin a senior ranger with hands on his hips marched over to us. He had been ease dropping. “What are you boys up to?” he asked.

I explained “We’re going to hike up Torment Basin, spend the night and then cross the ridge into Boston Basin the next morning and climb Forbidden Peak.”

Wheels turned in the Ranger’s head, he thought we were up to no good, “There’s no trail up Torment Basin.”

“It looks pretty straight forward.” I said pointing at the map.

He then said “You can’t cross that ridge into Boston Basin, the cornice is still to big.” He pulled out a recent hiker’s photo and pointed to a random ridge.”

“I guess we’ll have to cut through the cornice,” I joked.

The ranger had no immediate response. He seemed frustrated and just got right to the point “You guys are not allowed to camp in Boston Basin,” he said firmly.

“Sir we are aware of this, we will stay in Torment tonight.” I replied.

Now he got down to business, “We are going to have a climbing ranger up there and if he finds you guys camped in Boston Basin there are going to be fines and consequences.”

We assured the skeptical Ranger we would not poach Boston Basin and hurried out of the office into the pouring rain. The rainy weather, the unfamiliar approach, possible crowds on the climb, did I mention rainy weather. These were all billboard signs telling us to retreat but we pushed on.

We found what we thought was Torment Basin and started bush wacking up the fall line. It was like nothing I had ever seen. First of all I didn’t know a forest could grow on such a steep hillside. The rain lubricated the forest floor making it slicker then snot. We desperately climbed through old growth conifers sprinkled with slick loose talus fields and impassable thickets of Box Elder and stinging Devils Club. The going was relentless. Our hands and legs stung with each swipe of Devils Club. The humidity was almost debilitating. I felt like a wet towel that needed ringing out. We hiked mostly in silent misery probably because throwing in the towel was at the tip of everyone’s tongue. I wouldn’t be surprised if the last person to have walked into Torment Basin was Fred Becky himself.

After hours of hiking we gained a ridge. To be honest we had been hiking in such a thick fog nobody had any idea if we were on the right ridge connecting Torment and Boston Basin. The ridge offered a breath of fresh air and was substantially easier then fighting our way through the thick unrelenting forest. As we inched further up the ridge day light was disappearing. We had been on the move for over 5 hours and we had no idea where we were. All of a sudden the ridge ended one more step would have been into thick grey fog supported by nothingness. We were on a pinnacle with cliff to the right, left and straight ahead. I was sure we were defeated and would be hiking back down Torment Basin in the morning unsuccessful.

My stupor was broken when Ben yelled “There’s webbing down here.” To our right there was an old rap station on the Boston Basin side. A sense of relief filled me. This must be it a way into Boston Basin. In the thick fog and rain we had no idea where a rappel would bring us. It would of been reckless to try the rappel so we decided to bivy on the ridge and see what the morning brought.

We were in our wet sleeping bags and bivy sacks by midnight. I laid contorted on a small irregular patch of wet ground close to the crest of the ridge thinking there is no way I am going to fall asleep. The next thing I knew my alarm was going off, it was 3:45am. My head was near the crest of the ridge so I looked over the cliff edge in the direction of Boston Basin. There was a little light in the sky and the thick fog was breaking. Below me I could see the snow field of a glacier. I ripped myself out of my sleeping bags more excited then 6 year old on Christmas morning. The guys groaned and stirred out of there

warm nooks. We stuffed soggy down sleeping bags into out packs. We were ready in minutes.

We rappelled down over 250 feet of broken granite cliff to the snowfields of Boston Basin below. After a quick transition into crampons we were charging across the snow field just below Torment Peak. The West Ridge of Forbidden Peak is narrow and can easily become bottle necked with climbing parties. Do to our handicapped start we were already feeling behind the curves so we raced across the snow. We decided to drop all non essential climbing gear on a flat swath of glacier to be collected after the climb. This let us pick up the pace. I had another motivation for moving fast. The next morning at 6:30 am I was leaving from Seattle on a 6 Day Mt Baker Trip. I had to get back to the city, dry stuff, grocery shop, pack and maybe sleep.

The stellar granite climbing of Forbidden is protected by a 400 foot steep snow couloir. I dreaded having to pitch out the couloir or do running belays with snow pickets. I knew this would really slow us down. Fortunately the couloir had a great boot pack (Steps) with firm cramponable snow. It took us only minutes to ascend the couloir. A short pitch of blocky granite in a gully above the couloir lead to the ridge proper. After hours in the shadows the sun hit our chilled bodies for the first time in a day, the warmth was incredivble.  Once on the ridge we were overwhelmed by breath taking views and energized by the narrow ridge in front of us still to be climbed.

We easily lead most of the ridge. I lead out full 60 meter lengths of rope until the rope would literally tug me to stop. At that point I would build a belay. I then brought Ben and Spruce in simultaneously to the belay spot. We did this until the angle of the ridge leveled off just a few pitches before the summit. From this point we simultaneously climbed to the summit roped up with a few pieces of protection here and there.

At no time is the climbing on Forbidden’s West Ridge very challenging. In fact I did the whole thing in a pair of mountaineering boots. Spruce had on a pair of approach shoes. Approach shoes are probably the best choice for security of foot placements and comfort. Although the climbing is not strenuous the rock quality is superb and the exposure on each side of the ridge makes the climbing exhilarating. The West Ridge offered a little of everything, Cascade weather, tortuous approach, glacier travel, steep snow climbing and stellar alpine granite.

Liberty Ridge - Mount Rainier - 2012

It’s hard to have a conversation about Mount Rainier (14,410 feet) without mentioning the classic climb Liberty Ridge. Every climber aspires to climb Liberty Ridge for good reason, the Ridge is amazing.  Liberty Ridge is on the “remote” side of the mountain, the non Paradise and the non Camp Muir side. Don’t expect to see to many folks once you leave the Glacier Basin Trail and head over St. Elmo Pass. The Ridge is framed by the turbulent Carbon Glacier and rugged Willis Wall to the East. Getting to Liberty Ridge involves hiking several miles up the Glacier Basin Trail, ascending St. Elmo Pass, dropping onto the lower Winthrop Glacier and descending Lower Curtis Ridge onto the broken Carbon Glacier. Once on the Carbon Glacier climbers travel directly South to the base of the Ridge. Liberty Ridge forms an incredibly striking line up to the high Liberty Cap Glacier. Who wouldn’t want to climb this line with dramatic and active glacier scenes the entire way?

On June 14^th 2012 at 10:00 am my partner, Terray Sylvester and I left White River Campground parking set out for Thumb Rock. Most parties take two days to get to this point but June 15^th offered the only promising day of good weather in the extended forecast. Thumb Rock is a pillar of crumbling volcanic rock at over 10,000 feet that offers a slight bit of protection from the active ridge above. Below Thumb Rock there is space for a handful of tents on an icy perch. The National Park Service Rangers warned us that even in this “protected” area climbers should sleep with his or her helmet on.

Leaving the campground the Glacier Basin Trail was snow free for about a mile. The snow on the trail was firm but once we set foot on the Inner Glacier the snow became soft and slushy with miserable post holing.  Snow up St. Elmo pass all the way to Lower Curtis Ridge remained isothermic. Steeper sections of lower Winthrop Glacier had a couple of wet slides that ran through the boot track.  We trudged along burdened by atrociously heavy packs to the base of Curtis Ridge at about 7,900 feet. There we bumped into three Canadians from Victoria spending the night.  By this time it was late afternoon and they gave us sideways looks when we said we were continuing on to Thumb Rock. Below Curtis Ridge was the massive and 900 foot deep Carbon Glacier.  The glacial river was raging, rocks from the cliff side were tumbling onto the glacier and large cracks and crevasses plagued the glacial landscape below us. The sensations were unreal.

We descended Curtis Ridge to about 7,200 feet and climbed onto the glacier via a massive snow bridge spanning the turbulent glacial river below. I suddenly felt small and vulnerable for the first time that day. Even though Terray was roped to me and only 40 feet away I also felt alone, very alone. Terry hit the nail on the head when he called his experience on Carbon Glacier “wrathful.” 

As I walked on the Carbon Glacier I tried to walk lightly and purposefully so the glacier didn’t know I was there. Stepping over a crack I strattled the crevasse looking down into the blue that morphed darker and darker until it turned to black. Peter Athen during my Alpine Ascents International guides training had quoted someone saying:

"When a Man Stares Into the Abyss and sees nothing but darkness, this is the time that he finds his character. And it is his character, that keeps him from falling into the abyss."

Maybe it was more like Nietsche's quote about the abyss:

"When you stare into the abyss the abyss stares back at you."

All I know is the Carbon Glacier starred back at me. Right into my eyes. I was tranquilized until the rope tugged on my harness. Terray had yanked me out of my trance. 

We slowly worked around cracks making our way up the Carbon glacier. It was funny I could hear one of the loud and outspoken Candians on the ridge above us criticizing every zig and zag we made around crevasses on the glacier. He had the advantage of having a birds eye view of us at this time. Thanks Victorian buddy. We should of given him a bull horn and called him coach.

Liberty Ridge grew closer and closer until we arrived at its base where the rock jets out of the glacier. We mistakenly tried accessing the ridge on climber’s left. We thought we saw a mellow ramp that would place us on the ridge proper. But after reaching the base of the ramp we found it ended in a jumbled serac field, followed by a massive bergshrund and steep dangerous pumice climbing. This realization was heart breaking because it meant Terray and I had to descend back down the glacier and ascend around to the climber’s right side of the ridge. This bone head move wasted and hour of valuable day light and sleep. By now it was getting later in the evening, the sun was sinking and we were just above 8000 feet. We had planned to be at about 10,000 feet by now. With our one day of predicted good weather there was no choice but to keep moving higher despite aching shoulders and tired legs. 

Hiking on the West side of the ridge we stumbled over a massive debris pile that had avalanched off the entire upper Carbon Glacier wall. It was like the Glacier had far to many White Russians to drink the night before and blew chunks of ice every where, wall to wall.  The piles of avalanche debris made what was already “wrathful” seem eerie in the fading evening light. We continued on silently knowing this was no place to stop, pause or hesitate.   Shockingly there was an old tent platform in the snow about 100 feet before the avalanche debris started. Either some climbers had got very lucky with dumb luck or heavily soiled their merino wool underwear?  We tip toed over a fading snow bridge that ascended a bergshrund and finally climbed a slushy snow slope that put us on the pumicy crest of Liberty Ridge. It finally felt like we were making progress. 

It quickly became obvious that Thumb Rock was farther away then we predicted. I saw why most parties take two days to get to this point.  Now we were racing the diminishing evening light.  We decided setting up camp in the light would be more desirable and safer then in the dark.  We kept climbing to mirage like saddles on the ridge hoping a flat spot big enough for a tent to rest on. No dice. Finally we just decided to dig our own platform right into the steep snow slope. I set up a T- slot snow anchor in the loose granular snow, crossing my fingers and throwing in a couple signs of the cross. To back up the questionable snow anchor I slung a piece of crumbling volcanic rock to make a multi point anchor.  Roped in for safety we started to dig a ledge into the steep snow slope.

After 30 minutes of digging, chopping and hyperventilating we had a tent sized ledge in the 50 degree snow slope. It would have to do.  I laid down in the tent on the downhill side with my shoulder pressing into the tent wall. I new very well my shoulder was hanging over the void, but hey the tent was a Bibler these things are built tough, right? I decided to untie and take off my harness for comfort. Terray, obviously the more intelligent of the two of us, slept with his harness on tied into the safety anchor. I figured if we started sliding down the slope I would just bear hug Terry and call it good. I had seen people in the movies jump out of air planes without parachutes and grab onto another free falling guy with a parachute and survive. Terray thought my logic was flawed but he didn’t argue. Terray started the laborious task of melting water from snow. I shut my eyes and woke up to Terray handing me a hot Nalgene of pumice laced snow melt, water with a crunch.  I describe myself as an insomniac and I had fallen sound asleep in one of the most exposed places I had ever laid down.  Maybe back at home I didn’t need melatonin and ear plugs, I just need to sleep with one shoulder hanging off a steep pitched roof?

The opportunity to climb Liberty Ridge in great weather is presented to few. We decided to sacrifice sleep for the chance of climbing on a splitter day. Things were looking good at sunset, the sky was clear, wind calm and stars littered the night sky. We decided a few hours of sleep would due. Unfortunately I forgot to switch my alarm off vibrate and slept through it. We woke up at almost 5 am to a warm morning sun and stillness in the atmosphere. “Mother $%^&**,” I yelled to wake Terray up. I should of been thankful the tent had not fallen off the ledge but instead I was irritated that we had slept in. We should have been climbing hours ago.  We rallied broke camp and skipped breakfast. We were climbing in 30 minutes.

The climbing one Liberty Ridge is not very technical but the steepness and exposure make it exhilarating. We only had 4 snow pickets for protection so used them very sparingly.  Most of the time we just simultaneously climbed carefully without any protection. Terray was going for old school points and had only brought one ice axe. Sensible climbers bring two ice tools each to climb the Ridge. I wasn’t looking much better with my two mountaineering axes. One was more of an 8 pound cane I call Thor. My mountain axe Thor was about as useful as one square of toilet paper and the runs on the steep slopes.  Soon we reached the Black Pyramid at over 12,000 feet. Due to our late start I was anxious to keep moving. The slope to the East of the Black Pyramid was slushy and heavy in the morning sunlight. I was worried about a wet slide and wanted to get through the next steep section before it got any warmer. Terray had other plans. I turned around and he had a look of desperation on his face. He refused to keep moving.  Terray was in the middle of a Gastrointestinal emergency.

After Terray took care of business anchored into a snow picket we climbed to the top of the Black Pyramid. We took a short rest on a steep saddle when the tranquility of the climb was broken by a Chinook Helicopter. The helicopter thundered by. I was overwhelmed by a sense of panic. The booming blades  made me think the cacophony was going to collapses a serac on us. Once this fear subsided I thought there must be a recue going on.  It was a very unsettling feeling. The Chinook made several passes of the ridge, even hovering above us, until it disappeared.

After several more rope lengths of simultaneous climbing the terrain eased and we were on the upper Liberty Cap Glacier. I could see the “crux” bergshrund not far ahead. It looked benign and easily passable. The final 70 feet of the climb was the real crux. A short section of waterfall three ice lead to a 65 degree slope of loosely consolidated ice. Putting an ice screw into ice of this quality is just a waste of time. The climbing was manageable for me with my two mountaineering axes but I worried about Terray with his one mountaineering axe. As I climbed I did my best to cut steps and hand holds for Terray. 

About 15 feet from the Liberty Cap summit ridge the rope pulled tight. I was still front pointing at nearly 14,000 feet on a 50 degree firm snow slope with my calves on fire. I swung the adze of Thor into the slope until I had made myself a small platform to stand on. I then wacked a snow picket into the snow and equalized it to a mountaineering axe. I dug my crampon points into the slope extra deep. I thought to myself, “Terray you better not fall.” I yelled, “Belay on,” and Terray started climbing to my stance. Terray didn’t waste time stopping at my belay perch, he kept climbing to the safety of the gentle ridge above. I let out a sigh of relief. I looked down on the upper glacier below and 3 dots appeared. I though to my self, “good grief, the Canadian’s rallied, right on.” It turns out the three dots were National Park Service Climbing Rangers. The Chinook Helicopter we had seen lowered the three rangers to Thumb Rock so they could blitz the Ridge in a day with ultra light packs. Helicopter assisted mountaineering, how rad is that?

                                            

Terray and I reached the Liberty Cap Summit ridge without event. We were surrounded by crystal clear views of the North Cascades and Mount Baker. Both of us smiled ear to ear as we took in 360 degree stellar glacier views. The calmness and tranquility of the weather allowed us to really take in all that was around us. We hung out casually on the Liberty Cap Summit for 15 minutes before starting our descent towards the Emmons Glacier. From the Emmons Glacier the descent back to the White River Campground involves hours of walking down moderately steep glacial slopes followed by some intense post holing on the Inner Glacier. By the time I reached the Glacier Basin Trail I was pretty spent and had entered a zone between conscious and unconscious where my body continues forward and my mind fades somewhere lost in my skull. I was thinking, “dirt.. dirt… dirt… woooaaa brown hair.”  Hundreds of pounds of black bear brought me to my senses. It was a beautiful bear with dancing fur of reddish brown on its back and golden tuffs of leg fur. Leisurely the bear strolled towards me only 25 feet away. I yelled at it, made myself look big and backed away slowly. The bear pursued.  “Ummmm.... that’s suppose to work with black bears,” I thought. I climbed the dirt slope above the bear and yelled at the bear with it now directly below me. The bear fled crashing down the hill on the other side of the trail.

After seeing the bear I had another 20 minutes of mindless walking before reaching the parking lot. Back at the car my pack came crashing off. I tore off my boots and slipped into comfortable sandals. Terray handed me a pre-noon victory beverage and we celebrated with a high five.

The Kissing Couple

 What is so incredible about desert towers? Layton Kor said “one tower is worth five big walls.” Maybe he is right? What ever the case desert towers have some sort of magical draw to me. I love desert towers isolation from everything around them. Vertical elevators of adventure straight up. There is nothing like sand in the corner of your eyes, caking in your ears, irritating your nostrils, and rubbing the skin off your body in squeeze chimneys. Desert towers are always a complete experience.

Not to long ago Terray Sylvester and I climbed the Long Dong Wall on the Kissing Couple located in Colorado National Monument just outside of Grand Junction Colorado. The climb is nothing but fun from start to finish. 

The tower can be approached in a couple ways. We chose to park at the Upper Monument Canyon trailhead near the Coke Ovens Overlook and walk down from the Rim Road into the canyon. One could also rappel directly into the canyon if so desired.

The first pitch of the climb is the crux and offers steep sandy crack climbing with a sporty finish protected by a bolt. I thought the first pitch was incredible and worthy by itself.  The pitch is long and sustained.

A couple pitches of chimneying and scrambling bring you to a 5.8 crack in styrofoam like rock followed by another chimney of sorts. 

 

The top of this pitch is called the “belfry,” a window like area through the towers visible from the road. The architecture of rock here is truly fascinating and creates astonishing exposure.

 

 

The next and final pitch is hard to imagine but it tunnels through the tower on guano covered cracks to a climatic overhanging move that involves transferring from the face you are on to a face behind you in a wild display over the void. 

The summit is a special place of isolation, solitude, wind and sensational views.  

Descending requires a few rappels. The first being free hanging for most of the way. Manage the rope well. Rope eating cracks abound littered with the remnants of old stuck cut ropes. 

The Lond Dong wall is a great adventure with some excellent climbing along the way.