The north ridge of Mt. Stuart had
been on my tick list ever since I first heard about the route. Mt. Stuart is the second highest non-volcanic
peak in the state of Washington and the single largest mass of granite in the
United States. The upper north ridge
offers twenty pitches of climbing on high quality rock, and it is one of the 50
Classic Climbs in North America. The big
hang up for me in the past had been the difficulty of the climbing. The route goes at 5.9 and until this summer I
wasn’t a 5.9 trad climber, especially in the alpine. The length of the route was also a concern
for me. It wasn’t a route I felt
comfortable attempting over two days, so I had to wait for a longer time
window. This summer, however, the pieces
of the puzzle fell into place. I was
feeling confident in my ability to climb the 5.9 pitches, I had time off from
work, and most importantly, I had Will, my awesome partner in crime. After much research and deliberation, the Mt.
Stuart expedition was on.
Will and I hoped to complete the
route over three days. Our tentative
plan was to leave Seattle on a Tuesday morning as soon as I arrived home from
work, knock out most of the approach that afternoon, and then spend Wednesday
and Thursday climbing and descending. It
was a conservative plan but we knew it would be a challenging route. Friday was to be used as an extra day if
necessary.
I got home from work just after
8:00 AM, transferred the food that I’d already gotten ready to my climbing
pack, and hopped in the shower. Both
Will and my parents showed up a few minutes later. My parents were in town from Alaska and were
picking up my car for their own road trip out to Montana for a wedding. Will and I planned to meet them out there
after the climb. It was great to see my
parents if only for a few minutes and we couldn’t resist their offer to take us
to breakfast, so we headed to the tacqueria in Wallingford to as soon as I was
ready.
Stuffed with burritos, Will and I
parted ways with my parents and made a beeline to Feathered Friends to pick up
some additional double slings, a triple sling, and a 60 meter half rope that
would save us some weight. From there,
it was Mt. Stuart or bust with only a stop for Subway sandwiches and gas
standing between us and the trailhead.
While driving, I admitted that I wasn’t certain we’d be able to find
running water at Goat Pass where we were planning to camp our first night. We called the ranger station from the road
and my suspicions were confirmed: There was snow but no running water at the
pass. We had been hoping to go
stove-less but immediately changed plans and decided to carry our new
JetBoil.
We were planning to climb the
north ridge of Stuart but decided to head in via the south side. This made for a longer approach but a shorter
exit, and I think it is the route used by most parties. We left the trailhead (4,243 feet) around
1:00 PM bound for Ingalls Pass. It
probably took us about two hours to reach the pass and it was there that we got
our first view of Mr. Stuart. I already
had huge blisters on my heels and was tired from working all night but we were
both feeling optimistic.
From Ingalls Pass (6,500 feet),
we followed the trail to Ingalls Lake where we each filled two or three liters
of water and studied the route description.
From the north end of the lake, we had to drop a few hundred feet and
then find a trail up to Stuart Pass.
From Stuart Pass, we would bear right and follow the shoulder to the
base of the west ridge climbing route which I had attempted several years
ago. After that, Will and I would both
be in unfamiliar territory. From the
base of the west ridge, our route descended a couple hundred feet of talus and
scree, traversed the talus field, and then gained about 500 feet of elevation
to Goat Pass.
We were able to see Stuart Pass,
the base of the west ridge route, and Goat Pass from Ingalls Lake. It was helpful being able to identify our
objective for the day but Goat Pass seemed far away. I think we were already feeling a little
overwhelmed. We talked about camping at
the lake and climbing Ingalls the next day, though I don’t think either of us was
actually serious. We pushed on and the
approach went slowly but smoothly. Our
route description indicated that it would take two to three hours to reach Goat
Pass from the lake but we definitely took longer. My blisters were painful and the scree
approaching Goat Pass was tedious. I
earned the nickname Baby Goat for my wobbliness on the rocks, and Will took a
bad spill when a rock he was standing on rolled and wound up on top of his
foot. Fortunately, his foot was fine as
was his elbow which he scraped pretty badly.
We arrived at Goat Pass (7,650
feet) just as the sun was starting to sink.
It’s funny to think back on how proud we were just to have made it
there. We were already beat up, but we
knew the route was only going to get more fun.
From the pass, we had a great view of the Stuart Glacier which we’d cross
first thing the next morning. We could
also see the gully we’d ascend to reach the start of the climb. The glacier didn’t look as gnarly as we’d
expected, but the gully looked steep. To
top it off, we had a clear view of the entire north ridge including the
gendarme, the crux of the route. The
climb ahead looked daunting but not impossible, and regardless, it was a helpful
to see exactly where we needed to go the next day. One of our biggest fears was wasting too much
time route finding on the approach. We
needed as much time as possible for the climb, so unforeseen obstacles getting
to the route would mean that we’d bail on Stuart and climb Ingalls
instead.
After selecting the premium bivy
site, Will and I got to work melting snow.
We wanted to leave camp with six liters of water each. I can say with certainty that I had never melted
the snow needed to make twelve liters of water in one push before and it took
forever. We melted a little extra to
leave in our pot for breakfast and planned to each chug a liter before leaving
camp the following day. This meant we’d
have to melt an additional two liters in the morning, but we knew it was best
to leave camp well hydrated. We were
thankful for the JetBoil as there wasn’t running water in the area. Dinner consisted of Subway sandwiches which
totally hit the spot. I also enjoyed an
Eskimo Delight Cookie Ball for dessert. We
were visited by a handful of goats, but they left us alone and vacated by the
time we went to bed. The snow melting
wrapped up sometime before midnight. I
was exhausted and Will finished up the last few liters by himself so I could
get a little extra sleep.
Throughout the night, we got to
listen to the thunder of rock and ice crashing down from nearby peaks. It’s always an eerie sound, and it was one we
heard many times during our climb. I
joked to Will that I was going to make a CD and call it The Sounds of Rock Fall. I
remember listening to various Sounds of
Nature cassettes to help me fall asleep as a kid: the ocean, birds
chirping, etc. The new edition to the
series would be rock fall, and if it turned into a top seller, I suggested that
we try to produce The Sounds of
Avalanches this winter.
Our alarm went off at 5:30 the next
morning. We woke to a gorgeous day with
no wind. Neither of us had slept well
but we were raring to go. I added the
water that had been sitting in the pot to our bags of granola and we set to
work hydrating and refilling our water bottles.
We left camp at 6:20. We had to descend a little scree before we
reached the edge of the snow where we donned crampons and ice axes. The snow was firm and somewhat steep (maybe
30 degrees initially), but the run out was good so I wasn’t too worried. Eventually, we reached a short rock band, so
we removed our crampons and scrambled across.
Back on the snow, we could see huge crevasses below but the angle of the
glacier had lessened so the exposure didn’t seem too significant. There were a few short icy sections, but I
felt very secure overall. The final bit
up to the the gully was a little steeper and we weren’t sure how the transition
from snow to rock would be, so I let Will go ahead to suss it out. Fortunately, it wasn’t as bad as it looked,
and we were able to kick steps right up to the base of the gully where we had
just enough room to remove our crampons.
After taking off the crampons, we scrambled up fifteen feet or so to a
more comfortable spot to get organized.
We ascended the gully more
quickly than expected. It was mostly
loose scree and not nearly as exposed as it had looked from our camp. About two thirds of the way up, we
encountered a giant chock stone which we couldn’t easily climb over. In order to skirt around it, we needed to
ascend some blocky fourth class terrain on the left side of the gully. We decided to rope up and Will led off toward
the notch at the top of the gully where we would officially begin the route (8,200
feet). As I recall, he made it to the
bivy sites at the start of the ridge in one long pitch.
We were psyched to have made it
to the route. I think it was about 9:30
or so, and we felt like we’d made excellent time since leaving camp. There were tons of sweet bivy sites. We took a quick break and then Will started
leading up the ridge. The climbing was no
harder than mid fifth class, but I was still getting used to my pack. I felt more off balance than usual and easy
moves seemed strenuous with the extra weight.
A 50 pound pack is a lot for a 125 pound person to contend with, and I
was happy to let Will get us started.
The early pitches of the route
are a blur. We’d hoped to do some
simul-climbing, but the terrain seemed just a touch too hard for our comfort
and the route finding would have made simul-climbing awkward anyways. We kept our pitches short to minimize rope
drag and stay in communication. Our goal
for the day was to make it at least as far as some bivy sites located on the
eighth or ninth pitch. We eventually
started swapping leads as the climbing remained moderate and I began to get
more comfortable my pack.
We could see a large bulge ahead
and knew from our route description that the top of the bulge marked the end of
the sixth pitch. The bulge became a
major objective for us. It seemed to get
farther away with every pitch, so I named it the bulge that never came to our
immense amusement.
Much to our pleasure, the bulge
finally came. From the top of the bulge,
we made a short rappel to a notch. In
hindsight, it probably would have been quicker just to down climb, but there
were rap slings at the top so we didn’t think twice about rapping. From the notch, I led a beautiful low fifth
class slab pitch. It was one of my
favorite pitches of the entire route and reminded me of the climbing on the
south face of Mt. Ingalls. One of the
best things about the pitch was that the route was evident and I didn’t have to
think about where to go for a change.
After I belayed Will up the slab
pitch, he led out along the ridge. The
climbing was pretty easy and we knew we were close to the bivy sites which were
supposed to be on the east side of the ridge somewhere between the slab (pitch
seven) and the gendarme (pitches eleven and twelve). Will passed a few marginal bivies but kept
pushing toward the gendarme as we were hoping for something a little more
deluxe. However, once I started climbing
up to him, we both quickly realized that there weren’t any other options ahead
and that those were the spots we were looking for. It was helpful that we were able to
communicate and had a clear view of the route to the gendarme. Rather than climb up to Will, I descended
into the upper (and larger) bivy site and built an anchor with the gear I had
already cleaned. I then belayed Will
down back down to me, and we were home for the night!
The bivy was super small, barely
big enough for two people, but we were so relieved to be done that it didn’t
matter. It was already getting dark, and
we had been on the go since 6:20 AM. We
added a few pieces of gear to the anchor and got organized for the night. We never untied… a first for both of us. Will considered having me belay him down to
one of the two tiny bivies below but decided against it. We had a feeling the party we’d been hearing
behind us would be joining us, and we decided we shouldn’t monopolize all the
real estate. I was perfectly happy with
this arrangement, as I didn’t really want to sleep by myself anyways.
Shortly after getting settled,
Will announced that he needed to take a poo.
A mere couple feet away from me, he demonstrated enviable talent by
pooping directly into a zip lock bag. I
could never do that!! I much prefer the
poo on paper, then stuff the paper in the bag technique. Nevertheless, it was a memorable show to
watch and I was quite entertained. I
might add that the grunting he produced made it sound like he was sending the
crux on a 5.12 pitch. After watching
Will’s performance, I decided that I needed to pee. I was a little nervous about getting out of
my harness on such a precarious perch, but fortunately Will showed me how to
undo the leg loops on my harness so that I could do my business without totally
removing it. I have used this trick many
times since then already! Great success
for all parties!
A few minutes later, a headlamp
emerged from the ridge. We had
friends! These were the first people we
had seen since Ingalls Lake, and we were more than happy to feel like we
weren’t the only fools out there. I
can’t remember the names of the guys that joined us but they were great. One was from Walla Walla, Wash. and the other
was from Oregon. They seemed like a very
experienced party and had started at the bottom of the full north ridge after
we had left Goat Pass this morning. They
were definitely moving along. Anyways,
they were fun to talk to and were both wearing TC Pro climbing shoes, making it
4/4 on the north ridge of Stuart.
Definitely a TC Pro convention!
As the other twosome climbed
through our bivy and down to the ledges below, Will and I each ate half a pizza
for dinner and an Eskimo Delight Cookie Ball for dessert (make that two for
me…. Will wasn’t quite as enamored with the balls so I ate most of his
supply). I think I also downed a protein
bar. I was pretty hungry. After dinner, we drank as much water was we
could sacrifice and burrowed in for the night.
I think we both had about 3 liters of water left when we went to bed.
The night was uneventful. The wind picked up a bit but it wasn’t too
bad. The other party got moving earlier
than we did, as one of the guys was getting dusted in his sleeping bag. However, we knew we wouldn’t be able to keep
up with them so it made sense to let them jump in front of us. We also figured we would have an easier time
with route finding and conserve energy if we waited for the daylight. One of my favorite memories of the whole trip
was watching the other two reach the gendarme.
I let out a big cheer for them, at which time they turned around and saw
Will half naked on the ledge taking another poo. Couldn’t have asked for better timing!
Will led the first pitch out of
camp. He left the bivy at 6:10. It was excruciating to put the climbing shoes
back on, and I was more than happy to let him get us going. Once again, the climbing was moderate, and we
stayed right on the ridge crest. After
Will belayed me up to him, I led one long 60 meter pitch to the base of the
gendarme. We weren’t moving quickly, but
we were steady and I felt like we made good time.
The gendarme is the crux of the
north ridge. It is possible to skip the
gendarme by rapping down to the west and ascending fourth class ledges to the
summit, but we didn’t want to miss out on the gendarme fun! The gendarme is two pitches long, both of
which are 5.9. The first pitch is a
lie-back crack while the second pitch is an off-width. Both pitches are less than 30 meters, so we
planned to double over our 60 meter half rope.
We were also planning to haul our packs on both pitches. For hauling, we planned to use a 30 meter
glacier rope which we would trail (but not clip into the gear). I’m super paranoid and have insisted on
climbing most alpine routes with an extra rope ever since a small mishap on
Sharkfin Tower several years ago.
During the night, I had made the
decision to lead the first pitch of the gendarme. Will would have been totally fine leading
both pitches, but even so I wanted to take a little pressure off him to lead
both crux pitches. Nevertheless, I don’t
think I’ve ever been so nervous before a pitch of climbing in my life. I was shaking like a leaf despite the fact
that was wearing my down puffy coat. I
had watched one of the guys we had bivied with struggle on the first pitch and
his performance wasn’t exactly confidence inspiring. However, after a snack, a poo, reminders to
both of us that falling in the alpine is NOT allowed per my rule book, good
luck kisses all around from Puffin, and a pep talk to climb confidently, I was
off. It felt great to be climbing
without a pack, and I immediately felt myself relax. It was a pretty perfect crack, a little steep
and bulgy in places, but the jams were everywhere and I could place as much pro
as I wanted. The only snafu occurred
while I was clipping my last piece of gear before the top of the pitch. I had trouble clipping both rope strands at
the same time, so I did them separately and one of them got wrapped around the
biner making it nearly impossible for me to get slack. However, by the time I realized this, I was
about to top out on the ledge at the end of the pitch using the extra slack I
had from the clip. I tried to reach down
to unclip the twisted strand, but it felt a little dicey and I didn’t want to
fall. Fortunately, I managed to pull
just enough slack up to get another piece in so that I would be on a top rope
for the unclip and reclip. This worked
out great and I was able to fix the piece without falling and then finish the
route.
I built an acceptable anchor but
decided I needed a #2 to make it totally bomber. I had Will lower me down so that I could pull
the last #2 I had placed and then cruised back up to the ledge. I had a little trouble with the anchor, as
I’m used to using John Long’s equalette system but had left my equalette in the
anchor at the base of the gendarme. Instead,
I was using Will’s cordelette. Also, the
crack for the anchor is actually below the ledge where the belayer sits which made
things even more awkward.
Once satisfied with my anchor, I
moved on to the hauling system. This was
actually the crux of the pitch (and maybe the whole route) for me. I had been planning to use a pulley to haul
the packs, as hauling 50 pounds of deadweight did not sound appealing to
me. However, since the anchor was below
me, I wasn’t able to get a mechanical advantage. The unfortunate part was that I didn’t
realize that it just wasn’t possible, so I kept trying to make the pulley
work. Finally, after much frustration
(and a few tears that Will didn’t find out about until long after the fact), I
pulled Will’s slightly lighter pack up using brute force and Will climbed the
pitch wearing my pack. It was a lot to
manage, as Will’s pack kept getting stuck, so I’d have to tie off the pack
using an overhand knot and belay Will up to free the pack. The pulley actually did come in handy, as it
caught the knot and allowed me to let go of the haul line. Anyway, after bringing Will up to the stuck
pack, I’d escape the belay, wait for him to free it, haul until the pack got
stuck again, tie it off, put Will back on belay, bring him up to the pack so
that he could dislodge it again, and so on.
It was pretty tedious for both of us and I felt bad for ruining the
pitch for Will who couldn’t have been more patient throughout the ordeal.
Finally, Will, Puffin, and the
packs were all safely on the ledge. We
quickly organized my balagan of ropes and transferred all the gear I still had
over to Will. We wasted as little time
as possible, and soon, Will set out on the second gendarme pitch. The second pitch began with a traverse
climber’s right. Once off the ledge, the
exposure was insane. Below out feet, the
rock dropped straight down to the Stuart Glacier which we had crossed on our
approach. It was the most exposure I’ve
ever seen. After Will was maybe 20 feet
right of the ledge, he started working his way up an off-width crack. The climbing was hard and it made for a nerve
wracking belay. I almost wished I was
the one leading, but that feeling lasted only until I had to climb the pitch
myself. To me, it felt much harder than
the prior pitch, and I was glad to be seconding. Fortunately, the off-width section was fairly
short and Will soon moved into easier terrain.
Once at the top of the pitch,
Will hauled both our packs using the brute force method. Once the packs were secure, I got ready to
climb. It was a relief to finally leave the
ledge which I felt like I had been sitting on for about a month. Even on a top rope, the climbing was
challenging and I tried not to look down too often. Fortunately, I didn’t run into any problems,
and it was great to be reunited with Will at the top. We had survived the gendarme!
We were both ready for a break at
this point, but we weren’t in the most comfortable spot so we decided to push
on. I was still feeling pretty drained
and knew we needed to pick up the pace, so I let Will lead even though it was
my turn. Our route beta said to head up
and right. Will poked his head around
the corner to the right but was unsure it would go so instead followed a crack
up and slightly right. The climbing
still felt 5.9 and we both pulled on a
#3 at one point, so we weren’t sure we were on route. Once Will got up a little higher, he saw a
sandy ledge below to his right and could tell there was easier terrain beyond
it. He down-climbed to the ledge and
then brought me up and over to him. Here,
we were able to take a well-deserved break.
From the ledge, we watched a guy
who appeared to be soloing the north ridge but had rapped down just before the
gendarme. We also saw another twosome
that had been gaining on us while we were climbing the gendarme, but they took
the alternate route as well. I think we
were a little disappointed not to have the reassurance of company on the ridge,
but it was fun to say hi as they climbed passed a couple hundred feet below
us. The twosome we had bivied with was
long gone at this point.
After our break, Will continued
leading. The climbing was moderate, but
the route-finding was a little tricky.
We were both tired and moving slowly.
We stuck to the ridge crest as much as possible. Eventually, we encountered difficult terrain
and found a rap station where we could get down to a loose gully just to the
right. We weren’t wild about rapping off
the boulder but it was obvious many people had judging by the slings, so we
followed suit and made a short rappel down to easier terrain. Once in the gully, our moral took a
nosedive. Will suggested rapping down to
the fourth class terrain we had seen the other climbers ascending during our
break. I was not excited about this option,
as I didn’t feel we would gain anything by descending farther and I wanted to
stick the true north ridge, a route I’d had my eye on for years. Yes, I’m a bit of a purist. Also, I was pretty sure I could see the
squeeze chimney pitch just ahead, and after the squeeze chimney, I knew we’d be
on easier ground all the way to the summit.
A change of leadership was in order.
We placed the #4 as an anchor, and I started leading up the gully back
to the ridge crest. Once at the ridge
crest, I headed right and was quickly at the base of the squeeze chimney pitch. I brought Will up to me and we transitioned
so that he could lead what we hoped would be the final pitch of difficult
climbing before the easier climbing just below the summit.
The pitch Will led was hard but
not too bad. It involved some 5.9 face
moves with good pro followed by a short 5.8 squeeze chimney. We made quick work of it and were psyched to
have all the hard climbing behind us. From
the top of that pitch, we stuck to the ridge crest as much as possible and
worked our way through blocky fourth and low fifth class terrain. We hoped the summit was just ahead.
Eventually, we made our way up to
a comfortable belay ledge in easy terrain.
I pointed out a neat cave just a few feet away. From the belay, the route headed right around
a corner. I had noticed that clouds were
moving in but wasn’t too concerned as the forecast was for zero precip and
thunderstorms weren’t in the picture for another two days. Also, we had long ago committed ourselves to
the point where up was the only option, so worrying about the weather wasn’t
going to do a bit of good. Just as Will
started leading out from the belay, we felt the first few raindrops. The climbing was easy enough such that wet
rock wasn’t a huge concern, but I still felt a little uneasy about the changing
conditions. My concern skyrocketed when
Will shouted back from around the corner that he was getting shocked. At first,
he said it felt like a tick was biting his back, but he soon realized he was
feeling electricity arcing from his backpack to his back. He knew he was in trouble when the he started
getting shocked whenever he touched the rock.
I quickly belayed Will back to me
and we immediately dropped our packs, grabbed our sleeping pads, a sleeping
bag, food, and water, and crawled into the cave. By this time, it was raining pretty
hard. The cave was a little cramped but
it wasn’t too bad and we decided it was at least as deep as it was wide
(necessary in order to be safe from lightening per EMT school). Regardless, we were extremely thankful for
the shelter.
While we waited out the storm, we
munched on our “emergency” dinner consisting of a petite loaf of garlic bread
and string cheese. I think I ate another
Eskimo Delight Ball too. It was getting
late, and we were starting to face the possibility of a summit bivy. We were prepared for three nights out, but
we’d certainly been hoping to make it back to the car on the third day or at
least to the base of the Cascadian Couloir, our chosen descent route.
It was a little tough to tell
when the storm had passed, but we erred on the side of caution and waited until
the sky appeared to be clearing. Once we
started climbing again, we made a beeline for the summit and probably hit the
summit ridge in three easy pitches. Once
again, the route finding wasn’t completely straightforward, but it seemed more
like “choose your adventure” terrain and we didn’t think we could get too far
off. Nevertheless, it was reassuring
when Will stumbled upon an old piton just below the summit ridge.
Will hit the summit and called
out that we were there. The relief we
both felt was immense. I was totally spent
as I climbed that last pitch to the summit by headlamp. Once I reached Will, my good feelings
evaporated. It seemed as though we were
on the summit ridge but not the summit itself.
In the darkness, I could see lots of possible high points, but it was
impossible to determine where the true summit was. We quickly transitioned and I led out west
along the summit ridge. The climbing was
very easy, and we barely even needed a rope.
However, with so much unknown in the dark, the security of a rope was
comforting.
Less than half a rope length
after leaving Will, I literally stumbled on the summit register. The summit register on Stuart is held in a
large silver briefcase. I was totally
stoked! We had done it, and the time was
9:41 PM. I quickly climbed up to the
true summit (9,415 feet) and then back down to the small bivy where the
register was located. At the bivy site,
I built an anchor and brought a very pleased Will up to me.
The summit bivy was as fun as it
could have been given the circumstances.
Will had cell service so we were both able to get in touch with our
mothers. I knew my mom was getting my
SPOT check-ins, but it was still nice to give her a more meaningful
update. We could see the entire I-90
corridor and a fire burning over on Manastash Ridge. We ate most of our remaining food which
consisted of a PBJ and maybe a bar for me and drank some water. We were both thirsty but each had less than a
liter left. Will also lightened the mood
with a summit poo and some pantless laps on the summit block and we thoroughly
entertained ourselves with the summit register.
Free soloers, three times in one week summiters, you name it, and we
laughed at it. We really appreciated the
emphasis people put on their climbing times.
Car to summit in twelve hours?
Make that three days for us! We
added our own story which should make plenty of slower parties feel much better
about themselves.
We probably went to bed around
11:00. Around 2:00 AM, I awoke with an
uneasy feeling. Clouds had moved in, and
I was worried about lightening. After a
few minutes of thinking, I decided to wake Will. I wasn’t sure we would do anything, but I
knew I’d feel better after talking things over with him. After Will woke up, we considered our options. We were both totally exhausted and the
thought of beginning the descent in the dark was almost overwhelming. We didn’t expect the descent to be technical,
but we knew it would be tedious and we didn’t want to get off route. Eventually, Will was able to pull up a
weather forecast on his phone. As I
recall, the forecast indicated a 30% chance of thunderstorms before 11:00
AM. Just as I was pulling up a radar
page which showed showers in the area, we felt the first drops of rain. We quickly pulled out our emergency bivy
sacks but almost immediately agreed that the safest option was to start carefully
descending. Our summit bivy was the worst
place we could be in a thunderstorm and the odds were just too high at
30%.
We packed our camp and I got
ready to belay Will down along the ridge.
Fortunately, we had flaked the rope the night before and were well
organized for a swift exit. Our plan
was to go down via the Cascadian Couloir.
This involved descending third class rock along the east ridge for
several hundred feet, then a descent south toward Ingalls Creek for about 150
feet, followed by a traverse east around Stuart’s false summit to the entrance
to the couloir. Our biggest concern was
accidentally getting lured into the Ulrich Couloir which we would come to
first. I felt fairly confident that we
could find the Cascadian as I’d made a ski trip to the area last winter and
felt familiar with the layout, but route finding is always harder in the dark
so we knew we had to be mindful.
Just as Will was leaving the
summit, I spotted a big dark cloud to the south. I was relieved we were headed down. Will cruised along the ridge until he got to
a place where he thought he was going to have to down climb. The down climb looked a little spicy, so he
built a belay and brought me over to him so I could lead down on a top
rope. We quickly transitioned, but rather
than descending the way Will had suggested, I saw an easier route that stuck
more closely to the ridge crest. I
continued east along the ridge and eventually down climbed about 15 feet to the
right to a bivy site. The terrain was
very easy, and I was already questioning whether we needed to be roped up.
As soon as I got to the bivy
site, I took off my pack and built an anchor.
I got Will on belay just as the rain picked up. Suddenly, I heard Will screaming from
above. He was getting shocked again. Will immediately dropped his pack and began
running/down climbing as quickly as possible towards me. The terrain was moderate enough such that he
didn’t need a belay, and the most important objective at this point was to get
to lower ground. As soon as panicked
Will arrived at the bivy site, we grabbed a water bottle and my sleeping bag
which was still stuffed inside the emergency bivy sack and began down
climbing. We were so fortunate to be in
easy terrain and wouldn’t have used a rope for this section anyways.
Less than a hundred feet below
the bivy site, we came across some boulders that were piled up and made a
natural shelter. We crawled inside and both
got in my sleeping bag. We were wet and
knew that staying warm was our most important priority. I’m not sure the rocks would have offered
protection from lightening, but we felt better knowing there was ground above
us now and they kept us out of the rain.
The shelter felt cozy. We mostly
just sat inside holding hands and talking.
We were also able to collect a little rainwater in our bottle. We kept one of our headlamps on just because
the light was reassuring.
After about 20 minutes or so, the
rain began to let up. While it felt good
to be off the summit and summit ridge, we knew we’d be even safer further
down. We eventually turned off the
headlamp to let our eyes adjust so that we’d be able to evaluate the sky. It was difficult to see in the dark and we
still had another two hours before daylight, but we agreed the sky looked ok
and that it was time to get moving.
We ascended the short distance
back to the bivy site and Will continued up to grab his pack. At the bivy, I removed my harness so that I
wouldn’t have as much metal on my body and Will packed up the rope. We also made the call to leave behind our ice
axes which were acting as lightning rods.
We were sad to leave them behind but agreed it was the decision our
parents would want us to make.
The down climbing and route
finding were initially straightforward.
The terrain was third class at most and we were able to follow some
cairns. Will was also kind enough to
give me his powerful headlamp so I could see more clearly. We descended past another great bivy
site. Soon after passing the bivy, we
came to a spot where it looked like we had to make a significant down climb. The climbing looked pretty easy, but it was
hard to determine the amount of exposure in the dark. We also weren’t confident that we needed to
descend there even though it looked like our only option. I wasn’t psyched about heading into the abyss
without a rope, so we considered our options.
Will was more than happy to belay me down, but I didn’t have my harness
on and it was tough to commit to losing so much elevation without being able to
see clearly.
After spending a few minutes
vacillating and getting cold, we decided to head back up to the bivy site we
had just passed in order to wait for daylight.
Once at the bivy site, we crawled into our bags and snuggled up. It was definitely the comfiest place we had laid
down since Goat Pass, and we fell asleep almost immediately.
I think I woke up a little before
7:00. The sun was up. The sky was cloudy but it wasn’t
raining. I was still a little chilled,
so Will gave me a couple hand warmers that he had gotten out before we went to
sleep and I stuffed them in my sports bra.
I also removed my wet climbing pants so that I was just wearing rain
pants. Soon, we decided to get
moving. I went to the bathroom,
organized our mess of a rack, and put my harness back on in preparation for the
possible down climb. Will also swapped
his climbing shoes for his mountaineering boots.
The descent was so much easier in
the light. The spot that seemed scary
and exposed in the dark was a mere scramble.
We never even considered breaking out the rope again. We laughed at the 10 feet of fifth class
climbing we had to do just before entering the Cascadian…. We couldn’t believe it
even deserved even a sentence in our guidebook after all we had encountered! I quickly changed to my mountaineering boots,
and the Cascadian descent was on.
The Cascadian Couloir plunges
several thousand feet down to Ingalls Creek.
It is mostly scree with nothing technical, but it is slow and painful. Nevertheless, our spirits were high as we
made our way down. I think we were just
relieved to be getting off of Mt. Stuart.
I’m pretty slow on descents and my feet were in extreme pain from the
blisters and my new climbing shoes, so Will took some of my pack weight to help
me out. We stopped a couple times, but
slow and steady was the name of our game.
I remember a lot of laughing and a lot of self-congratulations. We encountered running water about two thirds
of the way down, approximately 54 hours after we’d left Goat Pass with six
liters each.
When we finally made it to the
valley floor, we found the Ingalls Creek Trail and headed west. Our plan was to intersect the Longs Pass
Trail where we would bear left, cross Ingalls Creek, and make our way up to
Longs Pass. I had used this exit route
on previous adventures, so I wasn’t too worried about it. However, Will and I had trouble locating the
Longs Pass Trail. Unfortunately, it
wasn’t marked on our USGS map, and we expected to intersect it sooner. To make matters worse, Will had used our
route description as TP earlier in the morning.
Nothing about this adventure would come easily for us! In fear that we’d somehow overshot and were
headed all the way back to Stuart Pass, we backtracked, found a place to cross
the creek, and bush-wacked in search of the trail to no avail. Satisfied that we had exhausted this
possibility, we resumed our painful march along the Ingalls Creek Trail and
came across the intersection we were looking for just beyond the spot we had
turned around. We were stoked!
From the junction, it was a slog
up to Longs Pass. I think the elevation
gain was well over 1,000 feet. We took one
break where we finished the last of our grub.
It was hot and I was still wearing my rain pants, so I rolled them up
and took off my shirt…. Definitely a hot look!
Our spirits were still high though, and we knew we were on the home
stretch. The last few hundred feet in
the sun were painful, but we got the job done.
Will was feeling a little beat, so we traded packs knowing that we would
switch again at the pass for the rest of the descent.
From Longs Pass, we bid our
friend Stuart adieux and coasted the few miles back to the trailhead. I can say with certainty that my feet have
never been in so much agony. We were
both totally out of it but so grateful to have survived our adventure. I already look back at Stuart with
fondness. I’m sure we carried more food,
water, and gear than most parties and we are probably in a minority of parties
who pitch out the entire route. However,
these were the right calls for us, and I haven’t second guessed a single
decision we made along the route. Mt.
Stuart was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but both Will and I kept
it together and were an amazing team.
Will was the best partner I could imagine, and I wouldn’t have attempted
this route with anyone else. I look
forward to many, many more adventures together!
The Food:
- 4 bags of granola with powdered milk
- 4 oatmeal packets
- 8 PBJ sandwiches
- 2 Footlong Subway sandwiches
- 1 pizza
- 1 petite loaf of garlic bread
- 4 string cheese sticks
- 1 Cadbury dark chocolate bar
- 4 Eskimo Cookie Delight Balls
- 6 protein bars for Kristy
- Bars, honey shots, and other snacks for Will
The Gear:
- Partial set of nuts, double set of cams to #3 (except just one Mr. Orange), and one #4 cam
- 60 meter half rope
- 30 meter glacier rope
- Ice axes
- Crampons
- JetBoil stove
- Puffin with ribbon
No comments:
Post a Comment