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IBEXtrax.com - Cascade Mountains of Washington StateAlpine Lakes Wilderness |
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During the spring of 1974 bouldering was in. Frequent stops were made for climbing on short rock walls at Little Si, Sherman Rock, and the Issaquah Quarry. Eventually we gained enough confidence to graduate to an actual summit. We picked The Tooth on Snoqualmie Pass because it has short leads and it is rated easy class five.
Paul and I slept in. So, Chris was waiting when we picked him up in Juanita. We drove to Snoqualmie Pass. At the now familiar trailhead at Denny Creek, I was first to leave the car. The trail was still recuperating from the winters snows. I had to negotiate snow patches, mud, and wind falls. The mud soon disappeared, and then I moved out on the packed snow. I followed tracks and plastic ribbons that showed a way that was not necessarily the right way.
The ford below Keekwulee Falls was out of the question, due to the high water. A quick survey uncovered two campers on the other side of the creek, and a possible log crossing up stream. Getting to the crossing log was tricky, due to the narrow canyon. The footing choice was either slick moss or unstable evergreen needles. I finally mounted the log with one leg on each side. The log was twenty five inches wide, and slanting down. The loud rumbling falls below the log added to the excitement. Halfway down the log, I had to look up to keep from being misguided by the swift moving water. Down stream at the ford, I saw Paul. I yelled and wove my arms to get his attention, but the roaring sound of the rushing water over stood my voice. After a few more mossy steps, I was back on the trail.
On the steep between Keekwulee and Snowshoe falls I stopped and rested. I waited and watched until a group of hikers came by. I hiked with them and talked. They were going to Melakwa Lake. They told me of the two people they saw across the creek. At the top of Snowshoe Falls I spotted Paul and Chris on the other side of the creek. I waved them on. I saw a red parka on the south face of the Tooth. A convenient log appeared, and the hikers and I crossed the creek again. I told them what to expect at Melakwa Lake before I left them and then headed up the west side of Denny Ridge.
Before I lost sight of The Tooth in the trees, I took a bearing with my compass. I followed the compass course from tree to tree, and twelve hundred feet higher The Tooth appeared right on queue. I went up over some big loose rocks to Pineapple Pass. Just before I reached the pass I was alerted by something falling down the rock. Twenty feet to my left, a short haired mongrel dog, landed with a plop in the soft snow. With out so much as a whimper, the energetic mutt scampered quickly around the rock.
There was no one in the pass when I arrived, so I scrambled up the south side of the pass to get a better view of the south face of the Tooth. There were two parties on the face, and near the top I saw brief glimpses of a few MSR helmets. It was then I noticed that everyone had a helmet. I didn't have one. I watch a father-daughter team come down from the first ledge with two rappels.
Chris and Paul appeared in the pass, so I stowed some of my gear, and then climbed down to join them. We were four hours from the car when we roped up. A Hippy type stopped in the pass to tell us that he had just climbed the south face free. He scrambled down the east side of the pass with a confident air. I thought his choice of route down the east side looked way too steep. A few minutes later the Hippy started grunting, and then he came back up. Slightly red faced and arguably more humble, he dropped down the west side without a word.
Chris led and Paul belayed the first pitch. I watched for rock fall and snapped some flicks. Chris called, "belay on", and Paul followed. I paid out the rope from a standing hip belay. When Paul was repositioned, I moved up fast, trying to look smooth. Paul repositioned his belay, and Chris led up to the parallel tree group. When I rounded the anchor tree there was standing room only. Paul kicked a rock down on me, but he missed. We scrambled up, moving together, to the ledge below the upper face. Chris led a direct route up the dirty notch. I dodged rocks. When Paul went out of sight around a corner, the gulley came alive with a shower of rock and dirt debris. A rope came down, and then two rappelers slid by. I called back to Paul, and started to climb; first left, then up to the summit. It took us four hours to climb the south face. We signed in the summit register, ate a light lunch, and gazed at the fantastic view.
Chris rigged the first rappel anchor, and we went down in turn. Assembled on the ledge we watched with much anticipation as Chris smoothly pulled his Goldline climbing rope through slings we left above. There was a tense moment while waiting to see how many rocks would come down with the rope. However, Chris' excellent timing flipped the rope safe and clear of the face. We scrambled down to the parallel tree group. I set the next repel and personally tested it by going down first. I down climbed out of the rappel and stemmed down to the pass.
After picking up my gear above the pass we started down together. The glacial carved U-shaped valleys of the Washington Cascades have typically steep side walls and the going was easy until we reached the steepening of the glacier trough. We searched for a good gulley with continuous snow that could give us a good slide down to the valley floor. I had to climb back up after picking a bad gully.
After traversing south for a short time, we found a promising slot. I went first. It was fun until I broke through and started to tumble. I partially recovered and then slid down out of control, protecting myself from passing trees with my feet. Eventually I flopped over into a self arrest. As I came to a stop I broke through a thin snow bridge and fell into the small creek. With a feeling of excitement, adrenalin, and shock I diagnosed my condition as lucky. I answered Chris' call with an OK. I yelled a warning to keep left, out of the creek bed. From my bathing site, we glissaded down together; this time following a rib in the slope instead of the creek bed.
I showed Paul and Chris the upper log crossing and we moved to the east side of Denny Creek. We kept right at Snowshoe Falls, and did more fun glissading on hard packed snow. We passed the camp I used on the previous year on the Kaleetan Peak attempt. I showed off on the slanted log at the lower crossing by casually strolling up the treacherous log. Chris and Paul had no comment, and then crawled up the log above the raging torrent of Denny Creek.
We picked up the trail, back on the west side of the creek and then moved fast down the trail by skating in the snow. Chris and Paul hurried ahead and I arrived at the car last. A meal was prepared. Two skiers came in from Granite Mountain. I drove the Cortina back home.
In my dad's VW, Chris and I appeared in the upper parking lot of Alpental Ski Area. The upper lot short cut is recommended in early season, when the snow paves a smooth route over the brush. Upon arriving, Chris started sorting his nuts, and as usual he had to unpack and repack ever thing else he was carrying. I rapped my shoelaces around my "Rotten-On-Toes" to keep from slipping out of the torn welt. My boots were actually the Rotondo model sold by Reichle. However, the light weight boots were so worn out, the soles were smooth and they were falling apart. They were the most comfortable boot I had ever owned. I didn't throw them away, I just renamed them "Rotten-On-Toes". When Chris finally got his nuts together, we started out.
Chris set a quick pace on the snow covered trail. He was moving so fast that I strained to keep up with him. To have an excuse for lagging behind, I took out my camera and then acted like I was taking photos of the cloudless sky above the dark rocky peaks. The metering system was not working, so I saved my film. After awhile, we stopped to adjust our insulation layers. The sun was heating, and the snow was reflecting. It was short sleeve weather. Further up the valley, I was amazed at the remnants of a large avalanche. The kinetic force of the sliding snow had jumbled large trees like pick up sticks. This area was notorious for its frequent and sometimes deadly avalanches. Source Lake was completely snow covered, except for a few gaping cracks that stretched across the basin.
Above Source Lake we attacked the headwall with a vigorous pace. Chris made conservative switchbacks up the steep slope, while I went straight up thus making a B-line for the upper basin. At the short cliff that blocked the way, Chris went left, and I went right. I was being my typical individualistic self. As I entered the upper basin, I noticed a climbing party on the east face. I watched with interest as the leader breached the overhanging band. The overhang located halfway up the east face was the crux, and thus being the hardest pitch of the climb.
Chris and I started up to the well traveled traverse route that cut across the snow slope directly below the face. The horrifying sound of falling rock reached my ears. Chris and I watched intently as the largest missile bound down the face, and then pass between us. This was my queue to get out of there. I started to move fast, and almost burnt myself out before I cleared the bombardment from the east face. Chris watched below until I waved him on. I watched as more rocks came bounding down the face and I would warn Chris to look out. Both safely across, we had a smoke, and watched the rocks sprinkle the snow below the face.
After we roped up, we climbed the crooked chimney that went class three. I led the next class two pitch that went up the right side. The rope drag was heavy as I climbed out of Chris's belay. We then simultaneously climbed up together. I went up until I thought we should belay. As Chris came up, I was setting the belay anchor with two opposing Clogs. Chris closely examined the placement and pronounced that he didn't like it. He rearranged the wedge-like aluminum Clogs a few times and ended with the placement I started with. Chris then declared, "Now: That's better."
Chris started his long short lead; long in time and short in distance. I looked for the route on the face above, and climbed with my eyes. I was distracted by the billowy clouds whooshing over the summit. When Chris placed the first piece of protection, I swung on my anchor to re-aimed the belay. One of the Clogs pulled out. I made an unsafe maneuver to make it safer by placing two more Clogs and clipping in. Chris was easing across a small ledge. He stopped below a steepening pitch, and looked for a belay position. When he was in position, I started up. I observed Chris's chock placement, and eagerly un-jammed his puzzles. The traverse to Chris was well exposed, and Chris pointed out the loose ones. After a smoke we decided to traverse into the open book. Chris took the high route, and I dropped down. I almost got spread eagle a few times on my traverse.
The gully was soon alive with rock fall, so we climbed under an overhang and then ate some sandwiches. The first "Rock Slinger" appeared above the band and saw us. He watched all the rocks go by, and then he complained to the climbers above. After awhile he threw down his helmet in disgust. We told him he better keep it on his head. When the rappelling stopped there was a break in the rock shower, so Chris and I scrambled up around the rock kickers. A stream ran down the middle of the open book, and the footing was treacherous as I crossed the water. Chris asked if I needed a belay, and I said, "No". Above the tree we scrambled up without dislodging a single rock. Between the summits we unroped, and then scrambled to the top.
We signed in the summit register and then ate the rest of our lunch. The sun was sinking low; for we had taken six hours when the guide had said four. The plan to rappel down east face was dismissed, and so we went to find the duel chimneys. Between the two summits, I got a shot of adrenalin when I almost fell. I was saved by the friction of my "Rotten-On-Toes". Climbing down class three can be exciting, and it was. We crossed a snow finger, and climbed over to the class four chimney. We were relieved to see that the chimney was climbable. I rigged the first rappel, and said good bye to my nylon sling. After the second rappel we were on snow, so I donned gaiters. Just below us was a thin snow bridge. The snow bridge looked way too thin for my tastes. I did not cross it. It was not for me. So I traversed left and found a bypass.
Without much discussion, we both respectfully backed down the steep snow steps that were provided. The steep snow finger we down climbed had two overlapping cracks. We stood above the second crack, and jokingly contemplated the next maneuver. We were both glissade addicts and we dared each other to go first. Chris flinched first and then started backing down the steep snow. I watched as he moved safely ahead. And then with a great build up of confidence, I stepped off facing out. The first plunge step broke out and I slipped. All that arrest practice from earlier in the year produced a lightning quick reflex that made me flop into a self arrest.
I am always amazed how much confidence can be built with a single self arrest on steep snow. With a grossly overconfident air, I casually glissaded down the steep narrow snow finger. I occasionally dug in my heals to prove the speed control I had. I quickly moved past Chris, who was still backing down, and then flattened my feet to let gravity have all it could get. I showed off with a few good turns, and got down fast. Chris stopped up high, and put on his nylon pants before he came down.
I took Chris' ascent route, and had to jump a creek on the fly. Chris walked around. I got in a gully that looked like a clear shot, and played for more speed. I stopped to watch Chris, and he exploded head over heals. He regained control with a self arrest, and I went up to see if he had been hurt. He had ripped his parka with his ice axe, directly over his hart. He assured me that there was no bleeding, so we continued down. On the last long slide, Chris blew out his wind pants, and they loaded up with snow. We had a good long laugh.
I trucked off, down past Source Lake, adopting a skating stride. Chris agreed that the trail always seemed longer on the way back. He told me of his method of noticing more and the time will fly. Down on the flat, Chris's long legs stretched out, and soon he was far ahead. Arriving at the VW, I was soaked from the waist down. I changed as Chris heated up the Raviolis. As we pulled out of the Alpental parking lot, the dusk had ended. So, I turned on the Carman-Gaea headlights.
My plans for a Goat Rocks Wilderness trip were tabled due to heavy snow and road closures, and Rudi just came back from an extended Olympic National Park trip. So, Rudi, Chris and I decided to go rock climbing on Guye Peak. Guye Peak had always caught my attention. The peaks prominence at the top of Snoqualmie Pass would continually distract me when driving across the pass. We concluded as a team that we would never be "actual Rock Climbers" until we did a technical route on Guye Peak.
We agreed on a six thirty pick up time. However, it was at seven o'clock when I got up. I called Rudi and Chris. But, they were not ready. So, I took my time packing my gear. I guess I had dilly-dallied just the right amount because Chris, who we always have to wait on, was now waiting for me.
At Snoqualmie Pass a heavy fog enveloped the area. After parking the Cortina along Alpental road, across from Shale Ski Area, we booted up, and then took bearings on the sometimes visible peak. Our route took us up the rope tow, and then along a cat track. Soon we hit snow, and found some boot tracks. We followed the tracks and listened for Commonwealth Creek on our right, until a unanimous vote led to a ninety degree left turn. The slope steepened, and we came to a rock cliff.
At the head of a snow filled couloir, Chris stepped onto the steep rock wall and immediately got in over his head. Rudi tied into my rope, and then climbed up placing protection. I used an ice axe belay in the couloir. We gained a ledge, and took a long time setting the next belay. Rudi finally gave up trying to wedge-in a jam nut and then nailed in an Austrian Malleable. As Chris belayed Rudi, he continually protested Rudi's lack of protection. Rudi went forty feet up, then left a yard, and then up under an overhang. Anyone could tell when Rudi found some hard moves because it was when he stopped talking. To the left of the over hang was a tabling move with a clump of small violet flowers where the lead ended. Chris went up second, and removed some of the pins and carabineers. I went up only twenty feet before I moved left on a small ramp to a broken nose. It was grip climbing up some flakes to the ledge below the sill. I had to back down to look for abandoned protection before I did the mantel over the flowers.
We unroped, and then headed for the South Gully Route. We went out of our way to climb on the harder stuff. I lent Rudi my axe, and he dropped my adze guard. Chris stepped on a tree that started to carry him back down. When we reached the gully, we looked for awhile and then decided not to use the rope. While scrambling up, in close formation, we found a wide variety of rock. Chris tried some hard moves and had to back down once. I got in trouble when I stopped on a mossy slope. I froze for fear of ripping out the moss if I moved. There was only one thing to do; the moss didn't rip out.
In the col at the top of the south rib, we looked down and tried to pick out the routes on the West Face. Referring to the upper traverse on the Kennedy-Crooks Route, "I would like to do this, but…" we boasted. When we came to an airy step, we dropped down around a silver snag. From the snag we went right and then zigzagged toward the summit. While zigzagging east of the crest, I tried to restrict myself to small holds. I found some interesting class four tree climbing. I was noticeably tired as we crossed the false summit. The short flat to the summit was on snow.
A small truck from the Matchbook Collection was found with the summit register. The cloud level was just above our heads, and only the sides of the neighboring mountains were visible. The view down to Alpental was breathtaking.
After eating lunch, we headed north toward Cave Ridge. At one point there was a question if we should use the rope, but we didn't. A broken step led to a small snow slope. We dropped down to a tricky move on loose rock. As we crossed over the North Peak we picked up a pair of Canadian Jays. After a few slides on the hard packed snow, we reached the saddle that marked the low point on Cave Ridge. We scooted down through the flats into Commonwealth Basin. I tried to hold a high traverse to keep from climbing back up over the south toe of Guye Peak. But, I got tired of edging steps in the hard snow, and eventually dropped down onto the valley floor. Chris held his altitude until an opening appeared in the trees. He made a high speed sit glissade down to Rudi and me. When we stopped for a smoke break, we could see that the weather was clearing. The sun had dropped behind Cave Ridge, and cool air currents traveled along the valley floor.
By the time we reached the car, the summit of Guye Peak was clear. We piled into the Cortina and then followed the old highway down to Denny Creek Campground, where we snacked and sorted equipment. We spread out all our gear on a picnic table where we boasted loudly and clanged our carabineers and nut together; just like "actual Rock Climbers".
Rudi made the plans to climb the Improbable Traverse route on Guye Peak. John drove his car and the three of us left Goat Hill in questionable whether. We brought fishing gear, just in case it was raining too hard at Guye Peak. Now, don't laugh too hard. There really is such a thing as Rock Climbing Fishermen. I was working second shift at Boeing at the time. So, I was able to grab a few minutes of sleep in the back seat as John drove to Snoqualmie Pass.
John parked at the same talus slide parking lot that Rudi and I had used on the Kennedy-Crooks route. As we packed, I realized that I had forgot to bring my rope. I down played my error by explaining how three climbers on John's fifty meter rope would be OK. We climbed up the talus slide beneath a broken overcast. I had some fun with a tricky mantel move on a large boulder. It was the same tedious loose rock in the slide gully that Rudi and I had found earlier.
We free climbed left to a large ramp where John set a belay at a fixed pin. Next, Rudi led up loose rock to a questionable belay at a silver snag. I took the third lead that had a very tricky balance move, and then friction moves led to a spacious lunch ledge. After I belayed them up, we sat on lunch ledge, munched Granola bars, and then watch the threatening weather. I questioned if we should go on due to the rain squall that moved over the pass. We watched and waited for a time. We all agreed that it was very improbable that the traverse would go if it was wet from the rain. However, finally we decided to go for it.
I led up under an overhang and then traverse right on an enjoyable ledge system. I set a sling around a large rock horn and then belayed them up. John came up, took one look a my belay anchor, and then set his sling on a different flake for his personal protection. When Rudi arrived, the ledge became crowded. So, I moved out onto the Improbable Traverse. I stepped across on a weird off balance move. From that point on, every move was scary. I managed to place a number seven stopper at the start of the traverse. But, the placement was down at my feet. I found small handholds, sloping footholds, and loads of exposure. If I peeled I knew it would be a freefall pendulum. As the rain drops increased, so did my complaints. I finally moved through to where I could breathe. But, it didn't look over yet. As the rock became wetter, the route looked more and more impossible, or should I say improbable. I was scared senseless. So, I pounded in a pin and then belayed John and Rudi. I watched them carefully cross on a short rope. Their eyes wide with excitement as they moved through the crux that was now dripping wet.
Rudi thumped my piton and got a high pitched ding. So, he took the lead and confidently searched out a route to the upper class four ramp. As I belayed, we became engulfed in clouds. The clouds rushed up the vertical face and gave the illusion that I was falling. Not the best place for that type of feeling. Rudi placed a sling and smoothly moved around a corner. John went next and took a while to figure out the foot placement. I removed the three quarter angle I had put in. But, I forgot to hang on to the piton. Ping, bong, clang, down it went into the clouds. I moved onto the upper ramp with a tricky jam and push up maneuver. We climbed up the major ramp with a running belay. At the top of the ramp, I confirmed that PA climbing shoes and fur needles don't mix. We decided not to go on to the summit, as we pulled on our rain gear. A tree branch reached out, grabbed me and then flipped me on my back. I thought Rudi and John laughed way too hard. We scrambled down an easy gully in the pouring rain. A convenient trail appeared that led back to the head of the rock slide. I made a brief unsuccessful search for the piton I had dropped. We descended the rock slide by riding down on large moving rocks. That is, we shuffled down on top of our own self induced land slide. It was still raining when we reached the car. I washed off my climbing shoes in a mud puddle.
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