IBEXtrax.com - Cascade Mountains of Washington State Alpine Lakes Wilderness

22 Rocking Around Leavenworth

July 1974

Chris and I had spent many an afternoon climbing on Sherman Rock in West Seattle. A local guru Bob Swanson had shown us a number of routes. Chris and I would climb until weak fingers could no longer hold onto the rock. The low grade metamorphic rock, at the quarry near Issaquah, gave us variety and introduced loose rock into the climbing formula. Many times we would be caught by darkness, while searching for a balance point, on a boulder move. The granite rock on the north side of Little Si never turned me on. It was either too hard or too easy. The Mount Si area also seemed to be a catch-all for bad weather, and we were weathered off a few times.

Chris was going into the Coast Guard, so he decided that he deserved one big fling. A planning party was scheduled. After cornering Sherwood to inquire about camping with Rudi, Rudi's name was added to the climbing roster. I was beginning to dislike planning parties, mainly because Chris's hatred of scheduling was most evident then. For the two week trip, a low cost, heavy, minimum substance menu was composed, and the cost we estimated at seventeen fifty each. My financial status was marginal, so I sold my two hundred dollar reel-to-reel tape recorder to Rudi for fifty bucks. A pair of PA climbing shoes and a set of hexentrlc chocks were purchased at the Swallows Nest on Lake Union, and then I was ready.

I was half way packed on the night before we left, when I went to get the Cortina gassed up. While stopping at Chris's, I found a rare sight; Chris was packed early. Chris was proud of the achievement, and he told me so all the way to Rudi's. Arriving back at my house, I finished packing. The weigh-in was depressing: forty five pounds of camping, eating, and sleeping gear; twenty seven pounds of climbing equipment; thirteen pounds of clothes. My shoulders complained just thinking about eighty five pounds of baggage.

Four hours after I went to bed, I was up and loading the car. I had a pair of wool pants that had shrunk in the wash, and I converted them into knickers by blousing them with inter-tube strips. I packed a large piece of Vinyl, to be sewn to the seat when I found time. The last thing I loaded was the milk and the eggs.

At Rudi's we completely overloaded the Cortina with Chris's and Rudi's gear. Rudi had room in the ice chest for the milk and eggs. We were under way by Seven o'clock. The morning was warm and the sky cloudless. Two and a half hours later, we stopped at Tumwater Campground. The campground was closed for renovation. As I got out of the car to stretch, an angry Yellow Jacket flew into the car. After a hasty evacuation, Chris caught the Intruder in a can. Chris let the bee free as we rolled up the windows, and headed down the Tumwater Canyon. As we wound down the canyon, we named the climbing spots from the guide: Jupiter Rock; Waterfall Column; Rattlesnake Rock.

At Castle Rock, we pulled in and stopped. As we piled out of the Cortina, we were ferociously attacked by swarms of hungry mosquitoes. I quickly grabbed my pre-loaded Millet Sac, slipped on my PA's, and jogged up the trail to escape the flying man-eaters. I felt sorry for Chris and Rudi, as they packed up between swats.

On Loggers Ledge I stopped and watched a climber nail up Dan's Direct. When Chris and Rudi arrived, we went around to the Saber Route. A party was on the route. We watched "the second" struggle with a stubborn piton; he finally left it. We roped up and then Chris led out. Rudi belayed. Chris went up thirty feet and arranged himself in a belay position. When Chris was ready, Rudi started up. First he tried an overhang. But, soon gave up and went around. They were out of my sight, and I waited.

I stepped out, away from the rock, to watch Chris's lead. Chris was going slow, and testing every hold. A couple of people came around the rock, and I talked with one young man. He was from Colorado University, and now attending Olympia College. He had been on the Saber Route before, and he watched Chris. He casually said that Chris was off route, and that Chris was getting into class B1. I yelled to Chris, and he corrected his line of attack. The guy from C.U. told me how to use silent signals while climbing. He then climbed up around the corner to belay me. There was an awkward stretch as I rounded the corner. When I reached the belay position, I thanked the guy from C.U.

I started up as Rudi took in the rope. The open book went well, and I used the grip technique on the big bucket sized handholds. The move out of the open book was an exciting layback on flakes. I started up, then stalled, and backed down. I thought it over, and then went for it. As I moved through, I found the balance point. A sense of accomplishment and a wave of relief came over me. Next was the move over the rock horn to Saber Ledge. I clipped into Rudi's belay anchor, and then he edged around to the more spacious part of the ledge. I followed Rudi along Saber Ledge. At the end of the ledge we found a crowd. The Canary Route, Cat Bugler and The Saber Chimney all merge on the end of Saber Ledge. There was a party doing the Canary Nose, and the party ahead of us was just leaving the ledge.

I set up a belay, and Chris started up the open chimney. The rope went out slowly. The hot midday sun was brutal and without a breath of wind. When the rope ran out, I waited for Chris's signal, and then started up the Saber Chimney. The chimney was a series of slightly overhung steps. It was fun to use large secure handholds and small reassuring footholds. As I neared Chris, I was soaked with perspiration. When I popped out of the Saber Chimney, I was refreshed by a slight breeze that flowed across the top of Castle Rock. It was really refreshing. I set a belay below Chris, and he then unroped and tied off an anchor. When Rudi arrived, we unroped. Rudi and I scrambled to the top, and looked around. We sat in the shade, end ate lunch. As I ate, I scanned Midnight Rock for future climbing routes.

I had a salt tablet for desert, and then we slid down the back side to Loggers Ledge. Rudi was elected to go to town for water, so Chris and I sat in the wind, and played with Angel Crack. I went up Damnation Crack about ten feet before I eased back down. Chris posed as a picture was taken by a passing tourist. Another guy in PA shoes tried Angel Crack for awhile. But he never came close to the rock horn at the top of the pitch. Angel Crack was just wide enough to get a finger and a half jammed into the vertical crack. To get to the horn at the top you have to pull yourself up with finger jams and smear your feet on the virtually smooth wall. A husky young man came around the ledge, and took a sling in his teeth. Simultaneously all jaws dropped as he placed the sling at the top of Angel Crack. We picked up our jaws and then agreed that it was time to leave.

After we strolled around the base of Jello Tower to the Midway Chimney, Rudi led and I belayed. When Rudi was halfway up Midway I took a drink of water. Rudi yelled down accusing me of an unsafe move. He was right. After that, Rudi got quiet, and then grunted up over the top. When Rudi yelled "belay on", I went up, enjoying every move. I was cleaning the route by removing Rudi's protection and stemming wall to wall in the chimney. The last move at the top was the hardest. On top of Jello Tower, someone had placed a red nylon sling. I took Rudi's position, and then belayed Chris.

The water was gone and the sun was low, so we rappelled off the top of Jello Tower. The spectators down at the Tumwater Canyon road watched as we rappelled down the front of Jello Tower. The rope drag was terrific as Chris pulled the rope through. Going down the trail from Loggers Ledge, my toes ached in my tight rock shoes. While nearing the parking lot, I planned to avoid the mosquitoes. My plan worked well, and I was only stabbed a couple of times.

We drove a short distance down the canyon, and then pulled into a small unimproved campground. I drove through and came to an old one lane bridge. There was on coming traffic. So, I waited as a white VW Buss filled the bridge. As he drove by I asked what was up the road. A bearded hippy type responded, "It's a trip." I crept across the bridge, and headed back up the canyon on the deteriorating road. Rudi was interested in one spot we passed. So, I stopped and let him out. Chris and I Drove on. When I decided that I had had enough, I turned around and noticed a good view of Castle Rock across the canyon. The smell of the burning clutch permeated the floor of the car, as we picked up Rudi. We re-crossed the rusty bridge, and drove the short distance down river to Leavenworth. Chris led me to his friend's house, so he could return a guide that he had barrowed. When Chris returned to the car, he said his friend had moved into the mountains. We went to the Safeway, and bought beer, Gaiter Aid, and ice.

We drove back into Tumwater Canyon, and stopped to camp; just across the bridge. In the fading light I set my tent. A fire was started after a wood gathering party. We cooked hot dogs, and drank beer. Next, came the hamburgers, and more beer. We were all feeling pretty high, and soon I found myself climbing on the bridge. I climbed every possible combination of the old trestle-like structure. Then at the end of the old railroad bridge, we climbed on the masonry near the river. With my hart content, the last climb of the day was into my sleeping bag. The strenuous days work, topped with the beer, induced sleep quickly.

Stiff and groggy, I stumbled out of my tent at nine AM. I found Chris and Rudi acting like they were still sound asleep. I barrowed Rudi's wide angle lens, and with my camera in hand, I started up the road. I greeted two young fisher-boys who had had no luck. I found a good view along the Wenatchee River, and then I caught Castle Rock in the morning sun. After walking back to camp, I read from the guide until Rudi got up. A man came by with a big fish. After breaking camp, I scrambled some more on the bridge, until Rudi said the eggs were ready. The eggs were gone quickly.

As we drove toward Castle Rock we all planned for the mosquitoes. Below the rock I followed the lead of a climber I saw the day before, and wore my tennis shoes up to Loggers Ledge. At the Midway Chimney we got ready, and I anticipated my first lead on class five point four. I was so psyched up that I almost forgot to put my climbing shoes on before I started up. I had to force myself to place protection. The route was easier the second time, but the feeling of accomplishment was still great.

On the top of Jello Tower the red sling was still there, so I clipped in. Rudi came up quickly. As Chris came up, I took a flick. Chris took over the lead, but froze on the crux move "step across". Rudi got psyched-up, and led across. Chris followed to the cave. I stepped across last, and found that the small wired stopper was jammed in tight. I pulled, pushed, and jerked until my clinging position became unsteady. I mantled up, knelt on the sloping ledge, and picked at the wedge with my hammer. I panicked when I almost pulled myself off the small ledge. So, I gave up and then left the stubborn stopper for the next climber to salvage.

The climb up past the horn wasn't exactly on buckets. But, My PAs held well on the sloping holds. Rudi continued to lead out of the cave and into the squeeze chimney. After rearranging his equipment while hanging at the entrance, Rudi grunted through. When Rudi climbed out of sight, the rope paid out very slowly; and with frequent stops. Rudi's yell was scarcely understandable, and after a discouraging exchange, Chris started up. I reminded Chris to remove the protection as he climbed.

I was becoming bored. So, I found a comfortable position and then dozed. As I neared the border of deep slumber, I was disturbed by another lengthy shouting contest. When the yelling was over, I understood that Rudi was going up, and I would have to wait. I dozed off to sleep. When I opened my eyes I was slightly shocked to see the Wenatchee River four hundred feet below me.

Chris said, "Climb", and up I went. The squeeze chimney was tight for awhile, but then it opened up into a broken area. Chris was in an alcove belaying from a bolt. Chris explained some of the yelling, and confessed his anger at Rudi's slow pace. From the moment Chris climbed out of sight, the boredom again overcame me. Eons passed, and mixed feeling transpired. Finally the word came down, and off I went like a shot. A short distance from the alcove a corridor opened onto the upper face. I followed the path of least resistance; a diagonal ramp to the right. The ramp turned into a crack, and the crack petered out. I found before me an assortment of pot holes. Discovering that I was confused about the route, I yelled up for directions. Chris yelled, "Go left.", and Rudi looked over the top. Rudi seemed surprised, and then he laughed and pointed out the route that he took. As I climbed out of the pot holes, my PAs came into there own. By smearing the smooth rubber soles on the rock face, I began to use smaller and smaller holds with confidence.

On the top of Castle Rock we ate lunch in the shade of the summit rocks. We calculated that it took us six hours to do the Midway Route. The time in the guide was two hours. However, the guide also said that Midway has been climbed in ten minutes, also at night, in winter and descended; Jello Tower had been climbed by a person with one arm. I thought; maybe we're not quite there yet.

Going back down the back side of Castle Rock, my feet complained when I got sand in my shoes. When I arrived at Loggers Ledge, I changed back into my tenni runners. There was plenty of daylight left. So, by the time we reached the Cortina the plan was unanimous; off to The Peshastin Pinnacles.

Heading toward the city of Wenatchee and while watching the skyline right, we missed the turn off to The Peshastin Pinnacles. We had to swing into a gas station. After checking the gas prices, we made a U-turn, and then followed the directions from the guide. When I saw the sheriff car, I thought of my loud exhaust system. Then I considered the expired drivers license I had in my wallet. We parked down the road out of hearing range, and walked up the road. The sheriff was talking to some climbers in a white VW bus. Rudi talked, and found that we could not sleep in the apple orchard. The sheriff recommended Eight Mile Campground, located up Icicle Creek. The climbers talked of an outstanding finger jam called Classic Crack, and then they waved their taped up hands with warning.

Going back through Leavenworth we stopped at the Bavarian Market, and bought pickles and shakes. The day was completely used up by the time we arrived at Eight Mile Campground. My exhausted body wore away my mental composure, and I became rash and selfish. My ailing Cortina was smoking and overheated. I was in no mood to drive through a quiet campground, with the blown out muffler, maneuvering the headlights so Chris could pick the best campsite. I blew up, and then erupted for an unrecorded time.

Chris picked the campsite, and the tents were pitched. I was feeling hungry and exhausted, so I asked," what's for dinner?" What followed was a nightmare, wherein I was found cooking macaroni, under high stress, and for fear of failure. The rain started, and I was informed that the dinner was ruined. The nightmare ended when I collapsed on my bag, and entered the restful world of sleep.

I was up first. I wandered around and then found the "head". Rudi's bacon was good with our meager ration of Granola. I grabbed my rope, and started searching for Classic Crack. The climbers in the white VW bus had said, "Just across the road", so I was determined. A passing climber corrected me, and gave me directions to a place that I had been before. On my last trip Into the Enchantments, Mike had parked his parent station wagon at the base of Classic Crack.

Arriving at the lot, I wondered why I did not notice the crack before. I asked, "How do you get up to rig the belay?" One of the half dozen climber said I could use his rope. I peeled out of the crack once, put on some of Rudi's tape, and peeled off twice more. When the generous climber took his rope, I scrambled around the side of the boulder and then rigged Rudi's rope. I used a Dulfersitz rappel to get down. Chris's first try reached just above the bulge, and then he ripped off. I tried using a layback, and fell two more times. I looked at my hands with hanging chunks of skin and dripping blood, and gave up. Chris got psyched up, and went over the top. I was humbled by his skill and I congratulated Chris. Chris played it cool. But, I knew he was elated.

Back at Peshastin, I noticed the white VW bus as we walked through the orchard toward the gate. The first sandstone formation we came to was Orchard Rock. I was intrigued with the Tunnel Route on the north side of the rock. I had mixed emotions when I found that I was elected to lead. I was unsure of my PA shoes on the first move. A large hexentrlc chock placed just below the tunnel set well. After a hand friction pull up, I squirmed through the tunnel. I almost turned back before I swung around an exposed corner. A small face of questionable holds ended with a no handholds traverse on a rounded ledge. I rigged a belay, using the rappel bolt just south of the summit. As Rudi came up, I watched the chipmunks race around the rock. I rearranged the rope when Rudi got to the small face. Rudi belayed Chris as I continued to watch the chipmunks. I rapped off first, and then hiked up toward Dinosaur Rock.

I cut through the Dinosaur-Martian saddle, and when over to the Trigger Finger to check it out. I climbed out on Austrian Slab and waited. When Chris and Rudi arrived I trucked off to solo the Skyline Route on Dinosaur Rock. The Skyline Route led up a ledge to a step across, and then over the top of a knob to another ledge. There was a sling threaded through a hole. I was at the sling for awhile. Three times I backed down, and then back up. Finally I rapped down a short distance, and then did a pendulum across. While crawling through the pot holes, I belayed myself with a brake bar. As I watched the guide fall from my back pocket, I wondered about falling. At the base of an open book I pulled the rope through. The open book led to a table with a bolt. I edged out onto an exposed dead end ledge. I edged back to the table after finding no large handholds. I rigged another self belay, and ended up aiding around a corner. I pulled the rope through, and scrambled to the summit horn. I tried a bear hug on the first summit, but when that didn't work, I gave up. After a tricky move around a corner, I climbed the other summit. I ate a snack, and watched some bees fly into an apparent nest that was just below me. I rappelled down and ran out of rope before I reached the ledge. I clipped into the convenient bolt and pulled the rope through. After trying to re-rig the rappel, I ended up hanging by my hands and then dropping off to the bigger ledge below. Another short rap' put me within scrambling range of the guide. I found the guide hanging in a bush.

I scrambled back through the saddle and then traverse over to the Trigger Finger. I found that Chris had aided the five eight move at the top, and Rudi had used Prusik slings to reach the upper bolt. Their rappel was still in place. So, with a belay from above, I moved quickly up the Trigger Finger. After rounding a corner, I found large sloping holds. "Hurry up" called my impatient belayer from below. I went for it, and grabbed the sling that was holding the rope. I swung around, and continued up. While climbing above my belay, I moved slowly. My sharp toed PAs gripped the small holds. I gave instructions to the cameraman, and stood up on top. While climbing back down to the sling, I got mixed up with my foot placement. I was in a position that felt so insecure that I was afraid to move. After awhile my legs began to jump like I was operating an old foot powered sewing machine. Finally I went for it, and arrived safely at the sling. I rigged a brake, and rappelled off. While I changed shoes, Chris talked with two Californian apple pickers. We sand screed down the back side of Martian Slab.

Back at Eight Mile Campground, Rudi wasn't hungry. Chris cooked dinner, and I took Rudi's ration of cocoa.

On the morning of the seventeenth, after oatmeal, we broke camp, and drove down to the Snow Creek trailhead. I counted thirteen bodies pile out of a white VW bus. My terrible thoughts about my "too heavy'' pack were declared an understatement. I tilted forward, and stumbled across the bridge over Snow Creek. I was wearing rented boots; Palu's. When I passed my old resting spot, while going up the switchbacks, I evaluated my physical condition as better. Soon I pulled over to let Chris pass; so he could keep up with Rudi. I pushed myself to move faster. Just as I was about to give in and take a break, the trail leveled off. I was able to stride out. I continued, with forced breathing to the Snow Creek Wall turn off. We called it the Wall Camp. Chris and Rudi were talking with a young man who had a flex frame pack. As we ate cheese and pilot crackers, a group of soaking wet hikers came down the trail. We loaded up, and headed out. We stayed together for awhile, and talked of meeting at the Five Mile Bridge Camp. Rudi hiked on ahead. After I guarded the trail while Chris irrigated the bushes, he paid me with raisins, and left me behind. I trudged on, moaning under the heavy load.

I was disappointed that they didn't wait at the Bridge Camp. After resting, nibbling, and cooling off, I moved out onto the talus. I saw Rudi and Chris wave from above; I didn't wave back. The only thing that kept my blistered feet prodding along was my memory of being almost there. When I saw Nada Lake I felt rejuvenated. I marched around Nada Lake looking for my partners. After crossing the creek below the falls, I swung off my pack. When I found Chris and Rudi, they introduced me to John and Seth. Back at the falls, John commented on the size of my overloaded Cruiser. When I said it was my Winnebago. They all laughed. A flaring Sevea display preceded the preparation of the evening meal. John and Seth talked about their abandon plans for doing the Pacific Crest Trail. Their Texas upbringing had not prepared them for the cold deep Northwest snows.

In the morning I strolled back to the outlet of the lake, and then captured the Black Pyramid in the morning sun. While visiting the outhouse, I found another Yellow Jackets nest above the door. A family of hikers came by to talk, and I told them of the valve that controls the water flow in Snow Creek. With breakfast completed we packed and then trucked.

We again met the Seattle family near the valve. I gave instructions as to its location. At the top of the switchbacks a large bag of garbage was hanging from a branch. The first snow patch was passed just below the divide. As I passed over the top, I remember the two enthusiastic elderly hikers that I met there in '72. They did nothing but rave about the beauty of the upper Enchantments. Of course I found all they said to be true.

At the Snow Lakes dam we gathered, and dared each other to go first. The water was rushing over the top of the dam and the walkway along the top was less than a foot wide. I took off my boots between mosquitoes swats. The water was icy cold. The Seattle family crossed, and then their leader produced the guide. I pointed out the good camp spots. The leader told me of the Freeway Crack near Lake Union in Seattle. I mentioned Classic Crack. We sprinted around upper Snow Lake, and stopped at Camp Disenchantment. Rudi and Seth went ahead, but I caught up when they stopped to get lost. We crossed a creek on a tricky loose log.

After crossing the creek we started up the steep and rugged high route that was named after the past supervisor of the Wenatchee Forest; A.H. Sylvester. My heavy load became more uncomfortable as the route steepened. Rudi and Seth trucked off, and soon they were out of sight. John, Chris, and I stopped at the falls, and soaked up water and the view. Above the falls I fell behind, but I caught up by cutting across a steep snow patch. Chris went over the top, and I led John around to the left, which was less steep. Rudi and Seth were waiting as we trudged up to the crest. Naiad Lake looked ugly from a recent landslide.

After we ate a late lunch, I felt rejuvenated. I said, "Let's climb the High Priest." My enthusiasm wasn't very catchy, and Chris said it was too late. John was with me, so we planned our line of ascent. We cashed our packs, and then headed up. Without my heavy pack I quickly scrambled up the talus slide, and skirted some snow via a moat. Above the moat, a steep chute offered some interesting moves. We stashed our Ice axes, and followed an open book to a cul-de-sac. We climbed out of the dead end by scaling the face on the left. This short face provided access to the ridge top. As I popped over the crest, I was overwhelmed by the fabulous view to the north. Stretched out below me was the Shield Lake area that was called The Lost World Plateau. John saw nothing but exposure, and moved back from the edge. John explained that he had had enough.

I changed into my climbing shoes, and roped up. I directed John into a comfortable belay position, and then moved out onto the north face of the High Priest. A rocky ledge led to an open book which I stemmed. A perfect toe jam ended at a roof. An old pin offered some protection as I fictioned right across a slanting table. After a lot of groping and grunting, I pulled myself over a large chock stone. When John said that I was at the end of the rope, I pulled it up. On a large table I went around to the right, and found a jam that led through a tunnel. Once through the tunnel, I stepped onto the summit.

The sun had set, so I quickly took a flick, and signed into the register. The misty clouds over McClellan Ridge foretold of things to come. I noticed on my ascent an old rappel sling to the right of my route. In hopes of finding a less strenuous descent route, I moved out onto the north face. After a finger traverse, I managed to jam my toes into a shallow crack, and then slowly ease down. I soon reached the familiar rock below the slanted table. I quickly stemmed down the open book, and then returned to John. John said that he was cold. We moved off the ridge, and each ate some of John's Mint Cake. I sensed that John was uneasy about the exposure. So, we roped up. We moved together down to the axes. We down climbed the chute in the gathering dusk.

As we stepped onto the snow, I anticipated a quick descent. John's idea of a quick descent was the flying, spraying, and out of control type. I watched the rope pay out, and just before the end, I dug in. After I stopped John, I glissaded down to him. I gave John a brief lesson on self arrest, and then John took off again; out of control. It was a little harder to stop him the second time. So, when I reached John the second time, I shortened the rope between us. I showed John a boot-ax belay, and accidentally pulled him off balance. John fell past me, again out of control. The belay passed the test nicely. I waved John on, and we then went down together. The rope was taunt between us, and I leaned heavily on my ax to keep the speed down. As we neared the rocks, I called to John to do it, and he made a good self arrest. We picked our way down the talus in the dark. When we arrived at the packs, we decided to camp by Naiad Lake, instead of hiking to wherever the others had camped. We found some dry ground, and laid out the tent. Chris had my tent poles. So, we used the tent like a big bivouac sack. I cooked some of John's food, and we ate. We climbed into the sack, but I didn't sleep well. A loud rockfall almost brought me to my feet. After a brief period of lightning, the rain started. We set the rain fly by using John's tent poles.

The next morning was bright and clear. We slept in. For breakfast we ate some more of John's food. Rudi and Seth arrived to our rescue, and were followed by Chris with the first aid gear. Rudi said that he saw me on the top. The rescue party expressed their dislike of rescue work and especially the parts were they didn't sleep because of the worrying. I went into some detail of our experiences to help smooth things out. I explained how we just got up and other feeble excuses. John and I broke camp, and then loaded up. We went around Lake Vivian below Excaliper Rock. The camp was located on a peninsula on Leprechaun Lake, beside Pixie Pond. I set my tent, and then ate my ration of Potato-beef-rot-Knorr's. I sat in the sun, and stitched the white vinyl patch on my knickers.

I became bored, and was able to talk Chris into going up on the Dragontail Plateau. We quickly threw together our (Millet) Sacs, and then hiked out over snow covered Sprite Lakelet. We rounded Rune Lake to the north, and then passed close to Talisman Lake. After the short steep to the south of Talisman Lake, we easily roamed through the Brasingamen Lakelets. We gained altitude by traversing the base of Little Annapurna. We saw goat tracks just to the east of the Witches Tower. Chris kicked steps up the steep snow, and soon we broke over onto the high plateau. Chris started up East Dragontail, and I scaled the point just to the west. I called the peak Little Tail. I caught a flick of Chris on the top of East Dragontail. I quickly scrambled along the ridge to Chris's position. It was getting late, so we decided not to go on to Dragontail Peak.

We went down onto the plateau, and followed a goat trail to the divide above Annapurna Creek. There was a tricky move to get to the snow. The snow was too crusty to glissade, so we used the plunge step down the steep snow. We held a high contour around Little Annapurna. As we passed above Crystal Lake, the sun started to set. The high clouds turned all shades of red, and soon the entire area of the lower Enchantment Lakes was bathed in a pink glow. I picked my way down the muddy cliffs above Crystal Lake. Down on the flats that are south of Rune Lake, I waited for Chris. When Chris arrived we took a smoke break, and then continued down over Sprite Lakelet into Magic Meadow. The sun cups above Leprechaun Lake were large. When we arrived at camp, Rudi and the mosquitoes greeted us. During dinner, Rudi and I planned a Chessmen Traverse.

Saturday morning, July 20, was beautiful, and I was up early to enjoy it. I coaxed Rudi out of the sack, so he could cook breakfast. While Rudi and I ate, Chris said, "Maybe I'll see you later." Chris was feeling down. Rudi and I started out slowly in the morning sun. As we cleared a Larch covered knoll, the view started to form. Mount Rainier was visible far to the south, and the Flagpole Needles looked impressive. I applied a little Clown White grease paint to my face before we climbed a rock slide to the crest of McClellan Ridge. Rudi had second thoughts after seeing the exposure to the southeast; and for good reason. The impressive monolith to our right was marked number one in the guide. I called it The Rook because it sat on the end of the Chessmen Traverse. I changed shoes, and climbed with my eyes. As I got closer, I found that my eyes were bigger than my ability. Around on the south side there was a head bone counterforce boulder move. The rest was easy.

I licked my lips as I looked east down the ridge at the rest of the Chessmen Traverse; tower after tower of luscious granite, just waiting to be conquered. While going back down the Rook, I decide to do the whole true traverse and stay loyal with the line. I wanted to stick to the skyline, and I did. As I strolled out on an arete, Rudi said "no way." I decided that Rudi didn't have any confidence that I had in my PA climbing shoes. I continued over some pawns. Number two was a pawn, and number three was an easy Bishop with a tricky friction move at the top. "This is too easy", I complained. "Let's try a harder route", I said boldly. We roped up at the foot of number four. I was slightly surprised that I was leading. I named it statuesque crag The Queen, and started in the middle of the face. After five feet, I was forced right. Then I led five up, and five right again. The zigzag route created a hellish rope drag that was almost impossible. Close to the corner, I managed to tug up ten feet of rope. I placed my sixth and final nut from my rack and then tried to pull myself up on an oblong chicken head. Just as I put my weight on the Chicken head, it pulled off. I fell back from the wall and was caught by the Number six stopper and Rudi's dynamic belay. I totally freaked out, and then with nerves shaking, aided back down a few moves. I was so uncomfortable that I wanted Rudi to lower me all the way back down the face. But, Rudi convinced me it was easier to the left. The fall humbled me and leveled off my recent escalation of boldness. I belayed Rudi up. Up on the top, we ate our lunch in the lee of the summit cone.

From our lunch spot, we had a view of McClellan Peak. I looked for Chris. While eating, I planned a flick, but then Rudi wouldn't stand on the top of the summit cone for my composition. He offered me the chance to pose. But, when I tried to stand on the pointed cone, I too chose not the limelight of modeling. We rappelled down from the Queen, and I then pulled the rope through. Toward the top of number five, I had to stop and think it out. I finally figured it out, and stood on top. I thought that number five was The King, seeing as it was next to The Queen. However, the guide called it The Knight. While looking down the ridge, I picked out Chris's red parka, high on the west side of McClellan Peak. He was coming back toward us and I waved, but there was no response. From the top of number five, I looked across Chessmen Notch, and thought number six was definitely a Bishop. The overhanging mushroom shaped top added to its character. The ledges on the south side of number five were down climbed without rope. Rudi found an overhanging boulder move that was fun.

We passed through the Chessmen Notch, and then followed ledges on the north side. As the ledges faded, I was forced up a chimney. The stemming was hard with a pack. As I struggled with the crux section, I knew that I should have been roped. When I was almost to the ridge crest, my ice axe became jammed. I pulled and scraped, and with an exhausting effort, frantically made it to the top. I threw the rope to Rudi, and pulled his pack up first. We scrambled up the east side of number six to the brim. We roped, and I checked out the East Ridge. It looked too hard, so I stepped around on a sloping table on the north side. The lichen formations on the sloping table were as big as my hand. It must have taken hundreds of years for the lichen to grow that big. I felt a tinge of guilt as the black brittle plants crunched under the smooth soles of my climbing shoes. To my right the lower edge of the table dropped into an unseen abyss, whose only visual limit was the forest floor of Tanglewood; thousands of feet below. The west arête had good holds, but there was no place for protection; and the exposure was way too much. I flashed on an idea used on the first ascent of Prusik Peak. The early climbers had flipped the rope over the top. I flipped the rope, asked Rudi for tension and then went up to the top. I anchored the rope, and Rudi came up hand over hand. The heat, lack of water and the stress of danger had finally worn Rudi down. He had had enough, and Rudi said that he was going back to camp. I told him the rest of the traverse was just an easy scramble. But, Rudi wasn't buying it; his mind was set. I decided that I would go on with the traverse alone. So, Rudi rapped down to the east into Chessman Notch, and I then went down the west side. I easily re-crossed the sloping table and ran into Chris who had just arrived from his westbound traverse. We exchanged experiences and tried to out brag each other. Chris consciously edged out on the sloping table, and I casually strolled around him to show off were I went up. I offered Chris a belay over the top. But, he waved it off. We watched Rudi complete a long fast glissade that stretched nearly down to Troll Sink. I left Chris in indecision on the south slope of the Bishop, and then scrambled down the ridge heading for McClellan Peak.

The ridge was flat until I came to Pawn number seven. I followed Chris's instructions and did the tricky mantel move. At the next minor bump on the ridge, I swung up to the top to keep in style of the true traverse. I left my pack, and headed up McClellan Peak. I tried for a no hands ascent, but I blew it as I neared the top. I scrambled to the top on all fours, and then signed into the summit register. The view down the Snow Creek drainage was educational. It was interesting to note that lower Snow Lake drained east and flowed around a hill. While Upper Snow Lake, with the aid of the Leavenworth Fish Hatchery aqueduct, drained to Nada Lake. The waters of both Snow Lakes merged anew on the slope below Nada Lake, and were then swung north by the barrier of Wedge Mountain. The shadow of McClellan Peak was moving across Snow Lakes. I went down and picked up my pack. I carefully down climbed a gully of loose rock until I reached the snow just west of The Prong. I followed some goat tracks out onto the snow. The snow was firm and smooth and the glissade was great.

When I reached Leprechaun Lake, Chris was just ahead of me. At camp dinner was prepared. To me the ritual of savoring my meager ration of food had become accepted. I tried to feel satisfied with the food. But, usually I filled myself with a large helping of the enchanted surroundings and the accomplishment of the day's events.

Sunday morning dawned clear and sunny, and I declared it a day of rest. I slept in, and then I lie in my bag and read I'm OK Your OK. Rudi said that he was going to Prusik Pass, and then he left. Most of the day, I sat out in the sun and sewed my pants. The wool had easily worn through long before. I used the large patch of cloth backed Vinyl on the seat. Chris read and basked. We did some bouldering on Leprechaun Rock. We heard shouts from Prusik Peak, but we couldn't figure out who it was. I sewed my knickers, and finished as Rudi came back. Rudi told us of his climb of Prusik Peak. We played "one thousand questions", and found he had tied into a party that climbed the West Ridge of Prusik Peak. I felt extremely jealous. I tried to mask my jealousy with disbelief. But, it was without success. That night I was kept awake by the sunburn on the tops of my feet. Twice during the night I applied ointment.

In the morning I fought to sleep in. I eventually lost; my feet drove me out. Later, Chris and I moseyed off to Temple Ridge. We got some close views of the Boxtop. We took separate routes while scrambling toward the High Priest. I took a high route, and got out on some exposed slabs. I made a few risky moves, and then I got caught. I froze, and called for Chris. I managed to thaw after not hearing from Chris. I found a crack and went straight up to the ridge crest. I moved easily on the top of the ridge until I came to the west face of Hepzibah Blop. Chris answered when I called this time, and he soon appeared on the top of The Blop. Chris threw down the rope and belayed me as I climbed up the West Face.

We traversed to the High Priest. I led Chris to the descent route I had used four days before on the seventeenth. When we stood on the summit of the High Priest, a harsh wind told of a coming change in the weather. The clouds soon engulfed Dragontail Peak, and then the wind increased. We revised our plans, and dismissed the climb of Mount Temple. We decided to rappel back down, and I remembered the hole in the table. After close inspection of the hole, we decided not to use it as an anchor. We then descended to the chock stone. The wind was strong enough to straighten out my white rappelling sling. I climbed down onto the large stone and set the sling. I only had to flip the sling halfway around, and the wind did the rest. I used a brake bar, and went down first. While waiting for Chris, I tried to get out of the wind. After Chris landed, I pulled the rope through. Chris told me that when I was rappelled down he heard the chock stone creak. We headed down in the howling wind. We looped around the outlet of Lake Viviane, and ran into another party. At camp, Rudi said that my tent blew over twice. I re-staked my tent, and added larger anchor rocks. After dinner, sleep was difficult due to the flapping of the tent.

The morning was calm, and the "skidoos" was out. After in early breakfast, Rudi and I headed toward Prusik Pass. Rudi complained how boring it was traveling the same route. From the pass we strolled left, and unhurriedly gained the plateau. I picked an unknown plant, and chewed on the root. Rudi and I tried others, but they were all bitter. At the southeast point of the plateau we stopped for jelly and pilot bread. The resident marmot watched. We climbed up to Enchantment Peak, and roped up for the South Face route. Rudi led to the top, and then I followed. A long pole marked the top. The view was alright. "Let's do another traverse." We roped up, and I frictioned out to the "fingernail" of the Enchanted Finger. On Dwarves Tower here was an exposed traverse and an open book. In the book a vain of quartz crystals made it interesting. The impressive summit block had an easy side. Rudi scrambled down and around to retrieve the sacks. I hauled my pack. I continued the traverse, and climbed the northwest Dwarf solo. Getting back down to Rudi, at the base of Dwarf number two, was hard. We pulled out the rope, and then I led up a vertical open book. I placed a lot of protection. On the top I straddled a flake, and then belayed Rudi up. We rappelled off with a summit sling. We headed back to camp by dropping straight down around Talisman and Rune Lakes. While coursing into camp, I felt satisfied for another day. While cooking up another small dinner, we talked about leaving early. We cannibalized a breakfast to augment the dinner. Rudi and Chris admitted that they were tired of The Enchantments. They complained about the mosquitoes and the same view everyday. I was not tired, but disappointed to be leaving early. I couldn't understand how anyone could be tired of The Enchantments. We were not getting along.

On Wednesday morning I silently packed my day sack, and headed for the Valkyrie. I dropped around Crystal Lake, and then switchbacked up to the top of Little Annapurna. It was a long way down to Ingalls Creek. I traversed to the Witches Tower. I left my ice axe on the snow, and climbed the lose rocks and blocks on the east side of the Tower. Near the summit I ate lunch, and watched some climbers on the Enchantment Plateau. After eating, I scrambled to the top of the Witches Tower and looked down. A strong wind blew up over Aasgard Pass. I decided not to re-climb Dragontail Peak, so I scrambled down and grabbed my T-bird ice axe. After I picked a safe glissade route, I was quickly standing near Mist Pond on Aasgard Pass. I turned and slowly walked down through The Valkyrie. I spotted a marmot, and tried to imitate his high pitched call. The marmot and I whistled back and forth for a long time.

I strolled down through The Valkyrie, and reminisced on the visit of '64. While passing between Reginleif and Freya lakes, I remembered the small delicate flowers that I had avoided ten years before. The flowers were now somewhere beneath the shrinking layer of snow. I picked up the beaten path, and I recited the lake names as I passed: Sigrun; Olrun; Ladgunn; Brasingamen. I looked down through the lakelets and saw no other person. My pace was slow and I thought the deep thoughts that come with solitude. While going down the familiar route, I found it hard to be bored. As I passed Sprite Lakelet, I noticed how it had thrown off winter. At the outlet that was earlier a muffled snow covered stream was now a babbling brook that pranced amongst heather draped humps. I was truly enchanted by Magic Meadow.

When I arrived at camp, I found a lot of people. Chris and Rudi were bouldering on Leprechaun Rock with some of the young men. I was introduced to the leader named Barney. Barney said that he would have climbed with me. Chris told me that Barney would lead us up Prusik Peak, and I was overjoyed. Rudi signaled me, and we talked privately about charity. The mosquitoes were thick, and I used a lot of repellant. I gave away most of the bottle. I made another horrible batch of pasta. We ate it all, and then ate two more helpings from our visitor's pot. While I was stuffing my face, I learned that the group was from Langley B.C. Barney's assistant, a bearded science teacher, told how he hoped that the course would stimulate interest in life; and thus stimulate interest in learning. Barney said that the course was funded by Poppy School in Langley. I was so bloated from eating that I had to go lay down in my tent. Rudi got me up to have some mint tea. The tea was rich with sugar, and it tasted very good. I slept very well.

I was up with the sun, in anticipation of the Prusik Peak climb. We ate and then headed out. Earlier, when I found that Rudi had climbed Prusik Peak, I had a dream. Now, as we reached Prusik Pass, it was like a dream come true. At the pass I changed my shoes and stashed my sac. Barney and I tied into his short rope, and Rudi led Chris on the other rope. Short easy leads led to the five seven crux move. Barney smoothly moved up the steep sloping slab with small holds. I stopped in the middle of the crux because I stepped too high. However, Barney's hints pointed to the small intermediate nubbins. The move was thrilling in that balance was critical in maintaining the friction. I belayed for Rudi, and then led through a hole that came out on a table. Barney led across an exposed arete. At the summit block, Barney offered me the lead, and I swung up a crescent shaped flake. After rounding a corner, I choose the easy chimney on the right, and then stemmed up to the summit. I set a nut anchor, and belayed Barney up. I threw the rope down to Rudi, and he did the five seven chimney. Chris aided the chimney after trying for awhile. Barney yodeled and then waved to his group who were over on the upper Enchantment Plateau. I looked out over the Enchantments and thought how great it was to have made it to the top. It was the perfect way to cap off our two week adventure.

We rappelled down the north face, and got into some hairy down climbing. When we reached the snow, we traversed back to the pass. I reaffirmed that snow and PAs don't mix. At the pass we found chocolate that was surrounded by snow. Barney was pleased, and he told us that this is what he was trying to do. The extra effort to carry up the snow was the type of thing he was trying to teach. While going back down, we noticed some climbers on the south face of Prusik Peak. We watched until the mosquitoes got too thick, and then we moved to a new position. We agreed that we would go down Snow Creek tomorrow. I was sad to let go of the feeling that I had while on the Lost World Plateau.

Down at camp, we had a satisfying meal. The friendship bonded by the climb uncovered many stories, and we were up late listening and spinning.

I slept in, and awoke barely in time to say goodbye to the Langley-ites. We packed up without breakfast. Rudi left first, and I watched Chris pack. I strolled down to the outlet of Lake Viviane, and then sat in the sun to bid farewell to the Enchantment Lakes Basin. While I sat, Chris went passed. But, I passed him later, as he was putting on his shorts. Going down Sylvester high route is not like a stride out trail. The steep path is more like a series of sandy terraces cut by short cliffs. My bent frame Cruiser held up well, except for a clevis pin retaining ring. At the creek crossing below the falls, the clevis pin popped out. I put the pin back in and continued down to Camp Disenchantment. I passed two people coming up. I remembered seeing one of them at castle Rock. I remembered because he had PAs. The fast march around Snow Lake was quickly forgotten after the refreshing barefooted dam crossing. After the crossing, I climbed back into the rented boots and fixed breakfast. I ate granola, and talked with a bearded, guitar carrying, apple picker.

I made a brief stop at Nada Lake, and then continued hiking down to five mile bridge. I waited for Chris, and cooked another breakfast. Chris was far behind, and I dozed. When Chris finally arrived I told him about the clevis pin I had lost. A moment after I told him, I found another clevis pin retaining ring at my feet. We trucked down the trail together. The sun had left the valley when we reached the Cedar Grove Camp. We talked with some campers at the bottom on the switchbacks. Chris and I found Rudi and the Langley-ites at the Wall Camp. We eagerly accepted and then drank their sweet mint tea. A climbing boulder was discovered across Snow Creek, and then Chris reaffirmed his increasingly proficient climbing skills. We kept our record clean, and did not turn down another dinner invitation. After eating the filling pasta meal, Barney told stories: Climbing on Squamish Chief; Swimming the Frazer River; Malibu Traverse. We stayed up late. Chris and I ate another dinner before we went to bed. During the night the noisy resident rat initiated a relocation of the cooking gear.

On Sunday morning I awoke in time to say good bye to Barney and the Science Teacher. I poked my head out of the tent, and watched them run off down the trail. After breakfast, it was a slow dusty walk to Icicle Creek. At the creek crossing I dunked my head to cool off. We loaded up the Cortina and then drove down to Leavenworth for milk shakes. While going back through Tumwater Canyon, we had to stop and watched the climbers on Castle Rock.

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