Skagit Alpinism

Temporada de Locura

2012-01-24T12:51:00.000-08:00

This summer season in El Chalten has been exceptional in many ways, and the past few weeks in particular have been the craziest I've ever experienced in Patagonia.

Immediately after Jorge and I climbed Torre Egger, my girlfriend, Sarah Hart, came down for a visit of a couple weeks. She unfortunately came down for the worst weather period, and we spent most of her visit bouldering and sport climbing, but still made it up into the mountains on a couple occasions.

On the first day of 2012 Sarah and I went and climbed the normal route on Cerro Solo, with weather better than had been forecasted. Cerro Adela and the Torres on the dawn of 2012:

Sarah climbing up to access the upper glacier on Cerro Solo, with the Torre Massif and Fitz Roy massif behind:

Sarah climbing the upper glacier on Cerro Solo:

After Cerro Solo another weather window appeared in the forecast, and Sarah and I went to try the east pillar (aka Red Pillar) of Aguja Mermoz. Sarah climbing up to the base of the Red Pillar, with a beautiful sunrise over Paso Superior:

The weather window turned out to be mostly false, and only a few pitches up the Red Pillar it began to rain. Sarah following the first high-quality pitch of the route, and the last that we climbed before turning around:

Sarah rapping over the bergschrund at the base of the east face of Mermoz:

Recently there has been a whole bunch of good weather here (too much, in fact - and the mountains are falling apart, with huge amounts of spontaneous rockfall), although for me it has been mostly unproductive in terms of climbing. There was a tragic and fatal accident on Aguja St. Exupery, in which Canadian climber, Carlyle Norman, was killed. During the only recent stormy weather, I went with Rolando Garibotti, Jorge Ackerman and Pep Masip in an attempted rescue mission. Climbing in high winds, at night, while raining and snowing, we weren't able to reach Carlyle's position high on the tower. We'll never know whether or not Carlyle was still alive while we were trying to reach her.

The physical exertion from our rescue mission, combined with the psychological strain of knowing a fellow climber had just died, took the wind out of our sails, and we passed a couple days of perfect weather in town.

Finally, the day before yesterday I climbed Aguja Desmochada with Rolo Garibotti and Doerte Pietron via the Golden Eagle route, with a bunch of extra weight on our backs.

Doerte took the first lead block on Golden Eagle. Rolo starting up the second lead block:

Doerte jugging with a heavy pack during Rolo's lead block:

Rolo coming up to my belay a few pitches below the summit of Desmochada, with the Torres behind:

Rolo and Doerte on the summit of Aguja Desmochada:

Torre Egger, east pillar

2011-12-31T08:27:00.000-08:00

For Christmas Papa Noel brought yet another weather window to El Chalten, and on Dec. 24th Jorge Ackermann and I hiked into the Torre valley again, intent on trying the east pillar of Torre Egger, which we had previously attempted a few weeks earlier. We spent Christmas Eve at the Norwegos bivouac, and on Christmas morning hiked up the glacier to the base of Torre Egger's east pillar.

We climbed the O'Neil-Martin variation of the Titanic route, bivying a bit more than half-way up, reaching the summit in the evening of the second day, and then rappelling through the second night. I thought it was a long, difficult climb, and certainly one of the harder routes I have climbed in Patagonia.

Colin on Christmas morning, starting the first pitch of the O'Neil-Martin variation of Titanic. Photo by Jorge.

Looking down the second pitch of the O'Neil-Martin variation. Photo by Colin.

Colin leading up a basalt dike a few pitches up the O'Neil-Martin variation. Photo by Jorge.

Jorge starting up a pitch on the O'Neil-Martin variation, with the hanging glacier between Egger and Punta Herron behind. Photo by Colin.

Colin jumaring on the O'Neil-Martin variation. Photo by Jorge.

Jorge leading on the O'Neil-Martin variation, with Fitz Roy, Poincenot, Innominata and St. Exupery behind. Photo by Colin.

Jorge leading a steep pitch on the O'Neil-Martin variation, with old fixed ropes visible to the side. Photo by Colin.

Jorge nearing the snow-shoulder half-way up Torre Egger, at the junction with the Titanic route. The upper east pillar of Torre Egger is visible straight above, with Cerro Torre on the left and Punta Herron on the right. Photo by Colin.

Colin starting up the snow-shoulder, with the upper east pillar above, and Cerro Torre to the left. Photo by Jorge.

We bivied at the top of the snow-shoulder. Jorge chilling at the bivy ledge while we melted snow. Photo by Colin.

Colin starting the first pitch of the upper pillar on the morning of our second day. Photo by Jorge.

Colin starting the second pitch of the upper pillar, with the upper south face of Cerro Standhard visible to the right. Photo by Jorge.

Jorge coming up the second pitch of the upper pillar. Photo by Colin.

Jorge coming up the third pitch of the upper pillar. Photo by Colin.

The upper pillar is climbed via two large ramp systems, and the lower ramp and upper ramp are joined by a pitch of 6a, A2. Colin leading the connecting pitch. Photo by Jorge.

Colin re-hydrating at a belay, with the south face of Cerro Standhardt visible behind. Photo by Jorge.

Jorge following a pitch on the upper ramp system, with Innominata, St. Exupery and Aguja de l'S visible behind. Photo by Colin.

After the two ramp systems on the upper pillar, Titanic climbs to the upper snow-shoulder on Torre Egger via a steep chimney system. Unfortunately the ice in the chimney was almost completely melted out, and running with water, so I climbed the steep wall to the left, first on aid up steep (overhanging) cracks, and then free up slabs above. Photo by Jorge.

Jorge coming up the rock to the left of the melting ice chimney. Photo by Colin.

Climbing up to Jorge's belay at the base of Torre Egger's summit mushroom. Photo by Colin.

We skirted the worst part of the summit mushroom by traversing to the left. Colin traversing to the left, with Cerro Torre behind. Photo by Jorge.

Jorge climbing a step of rime to reach easier ice slopes above. Photo by Colin.

Colin following an ice traverse onto the upper south face of Torre Egger. Photo by Jorge.

Jorge climbing the last ice pitch to reach the summit. Photo by Colin.

Jorge just below the summit of Torre Egger, pointing out where we need to go next! Photo by Colin.

A party from Bariloche climbed the Ragni Route on the west face of Cerro Torre during the same window, and from the summit of Torre Egger we could see them half-way up the last pitch. Photo by Colin.

Just after we summitted, Bjørn-Eivind Årtun and Ole Lied topped out from climbing a really cool new route/variation on the south face of Torre Egger. Bjørn-Eivind climbing the summit slopes of Torre Egger. Photo by Colin.

Bjørn-Eivind and Ole feeling psyched just below the summit of Torre Egger! Photo by Jorge.

Colin setting up the first rappel off of Torre Egger's summit mushroom. We rapped off a buried stuff-sack that was left a couple days earlier by Hayden Kennedy and Jason Kruk, who climbed Torre Egger via the Huber-Schnarf route. During this weather window Torre Egger was climbed three times, by three different parties, by three different, completely-independent routes - which is pretty cool I think! Photo by Jorge.

Colin rappelling the upper east pillar, with many, many rappels still to go... Photo by Jorge.

After rappelling through the night, Colin on one of the last few rappels of the O'Neil-Martin variation, in the morning sunlight. Photo by Jorge.

Jorge and myself back on the glacier in the morning, feeling good! Photo by Jorge.

Aguja St. Exupery, Aguja de l'S and the "Seven Summits"

2011-12-16T09:39:00.000-08:00

On my second trip to Patagonia, in 2005 with my friend Mark Westman, we had many days of good climbing weather. Thus, we had a very busy, fruitful trip, and I was able to complete a goal of mine at the time: to climb the seven main summits of the Fitz Roy ridgeline. This group of peaks includes Aguja Guillaumet, Aguja Mermoz, Fitz Roy, Aguja Poincenot, Aguja Innominata, Aguja St. Exupery and Aguja de l'S. Like any summit "collection" (such as the 14 8,000'ers, the 82 4,000'ers, the Seven Summits, etc), it is a basically silly idea, and depends on one's definition of "main summits." For example, this list does not include the more minor summits of Aguja Val Biois and Aguja Kakito, which are also on the Fitz Roy ridgeline. It also does not include Aguja de la Silla or Aguja Desmochada, which although they are not on the Fitz Roy ridgeline (they are part of a separate, spur ridge), are more difficult summits to reach than Aguja Guillaumet or Aguja de l'S. Nonetheless, these seven summits are generally agreed upon as the main summits of the Fitz Roy ridgeline, are all great peaks, and certainly make a much more interesting collection than the standard "Seven Summits!"

In January 2009, about to fly home from Argentina and return to sitting in a university classroom, I soloed Fitz Roy via the Supercanaleta route. Because of the marginal weather and conditions in which I climbed the route, it remains the most memorable and difficult day that I've ever spent in the mountains. When I arrived the following December in Chalten during the middle of good weather, I immediately hiked into the mountains and soloed Aguja Poincenot via the Whillans route. At this point I began to envision completing the "Seven Summits" by solo ascents, and later that season soloed Aguja Guillaumet and Aguja Mermoz. Although this project has never been my top priority in Patagonia, it has been a fun and challenging journey - perfect to chip away at when lack of big weather windows or good partners did not allow attempting bigger dreams.

After soloing Aguja Innominata last week, I realized that I was getting finally quite close to completing this project, so when another weather window arrived in the forecast a few days later (the Patagonia weather gods must be drunk!), I made plans to attempt Aguja St. Exupery and Aguja de l'S.

I hiked into the Torre Valley on Tuesday, Dec. 13th, and bivied on a small ledge about 300m above the normal Polacos bivouac. Early on the 14th I hiked up the approach gully to the Kearney-Harrington route on Aguja St. Exupery. Although technically easier and shorter than the more popular Chiaro di Luna route, the Kearney-Harringon involves both rock and mixed terrain, so one must climb all the rock with boots, crampons and ice tools in the backpack. With perfect weather, I was comfortable free-soloing the majority of the route, and rope-soloing six pitches. The descent went smoothly, and I arrived back at my bivouac shortly before dark, 16 hours after departing.

The next morning (Dec. 15) I allowed myself to sleep until the leisurely hour of 7:30am, ate some breakfast, and then headed back up the approach gullies, this time to Aguja de l'S. I was tired from climbing St. Exupery, but fortunately Aguja de l'S is a much easier climb. I climbed Aguja de l'S via the north ridge, which is a variation of the Austrian route. I belayed a short approach step, and then free-soloed all of the route except for one pitch. The descent went smoothly again, and that evening I hiked back to town.

Except for the Supercanaleta, none of the rest of these seven solos are among my best climbs. Mermoz, Innominata and St. Exupery are all technically more difficult than the Supercanaleta, but much shorter, less committing climbs. I am proud of the achievement as a whole though, and it has been a good journey. At the very least, I have learned a lot about soloing highly-technical alpine terrain, and perhaps some day I can apply those skills to bigger dreams.

Jugging back up the second pitch that I belayed on the Kearney-Harrington:

Climbing in the main ramp system that is the defining feature of the Kearney-Harrington route:

Taking a break on a ledge part-way up the Kearney-Harrington:

A lot of the Kearney-Harrington route is somewhat chossy, but it has some nice sections as well. In particular, the last pitch to gain the upper east buttress is excellent:

The upper part of the Kearney-Harrington route, on St. Exupery's upper east buttress, is mostly a mix of snow ramps and short but steep rock steps:

I'm glad this didn't happen until the last hard pitch:

Jugging back up the last steep pitch on St. Exupery's upper east buttress:

The summit of Aguja St. Exupery:

Self-portrait on the summit of St. Exupery:

The upper north aspect of Aguja de l'S after climbing the approach pitch. I climbed the obvious, deep chimney:

Taking a break in the chimney on Aguja de l'S:

Handcracks on all sides!

This is the pitch on Aguja de l'S that I decided to belay:

Some low-angle squeeze-chimney near the top of Aguja de l'S:

The summit of Aguja de l'S:

Self portrait on top:

On the hike back down to Niponino from Aguja de l'S, I ran into Jason Kruk and Hayden Kennedy, who had just climbed Aguja St. Exupery via Chiaro di Luna. Thursday was one of the hottest days I have ever experienced in Patagonia, and generally mountains begin to fall apart when it gets hot. We witnessed a massive rockfall coming off of El Mocho:

Aguja Innominata (aka Aguja Rafael) Solo

2011-12-10T07:34:00.000-08:00

After my Standhardt adventure with Jorge, I got in two days of rest in town before another mini-window appeared in the forecast, and I hiked back into the Torre Valley. I spent the night of Dec. 7 at the Polacos bivouac, and departed at 5:00 am the next morning for a solo attempt on the Anglo-American route on Aguja Innominata (aka Aguja Rafael).

This past summer in Squamish I dedicated some time to teaching myself how to rope-solo, and I went to Innominata in part to test these skills. However, all my rope-soloing in Squamish was on routes with bolted belays and 100% sound, clean rock. Due to the often flakey and loose rock on Innominata, I sometimes put 5 pieces of gear in to make belays that I felt were completely trustworthy of upwards and downwards loading.

I think that I rope-soloed approximately 50% of the terrain on the route, and free-soloed 50% of the terrain. However, I would estimate that I spent 90% of the time on the ascent rope-soloing, and only 10% of the time free-soloing. All in all, soloing Innominata took a lot more time and effort than I had expected!

Correction (Dec. 16):
In 2005 Jon Walsh fixed two ropes on a new route on Innominata (called "Comono"), and returned a few days later to complete the route to the summit by himself, making the first solo ascent of Aguja Innominata in the process. In 2007 Chilean climber Jimmy Mora soloed the Anglo-American route, making the second solo ascent of Innominata.

Morning light on the Torres from the Innominata-Poincenot approach gully:

Looking up at Aguja Innominata from the Innominata-Poincenot approach gully:

Rope-soloing a pitch on the lower ramp:

Jugging back up the last pitch to gain the west ridge:

Jugging back up one of the last pitches:

The view of Aguja St. Exupery from the summit of Innominata:

On the summit of Innominata, a lot later and more tired than I had expected!

The next morning, rain showers and morning sunlight mixed in the Torre Valley for some awesome lighting. The view of Cerro Solo from the Polacos bivouac:

And yet again, a Torre valley rainbow!

Cerro Standhardt, El Caracol

2011-12-06T18:22:00.000-08:00

On November 30th, I hiked into the Torre Valley with my friend Jorge Ackerman, who is from Bariloche, but has been living in Squamish for the past year. We hoped to climb Torre Egger via the O'Neil-Martin route, so continued past Niponino to the Norwegos bivouac. On December 1st we left Norwegos early, and hiked up the glacier to start climbing at 5:30am. I made a route-finding mistake on the first few pitches, which cost us some time. Additionally, conditions were poor, and pitches that are normally easy in rock shoes required climbing with crampons and ice tools. After climbing six pitches, due to the poor conditions and our lack-of-bad-ass-ness, we decided that we were moving too slowly for our planned itinerary and supplies, and bailed. We descended to Niponino that night, but the decent weather was forecasted to hold for a couple more days, so we rested in Niponino on the 2nd, and hiked back up to Norwegos that evening.

We left Norwegos again early on the morning of December 3rd, planning to climb Festerville (the north ridge) on Cerro Standhardt. On the way up to the Standhardt Col, strong winds caused us to reconsider our plans for Festerville, which is very exposed to the wind. We quickly changed objectives to the un-finished south face of Standhardt, which had been almost climbed in 1977 by a British party, and had since repulsed a few other attempts over the years.

Jorge led the first couple tricky mixed pitches above the Standhardt Col, and then we simul-climbed across the long ramp that cuts diagonally up Standhardt's east face. After turning the corner onto the south face, Jorge led a mixed pitch up and left that brought us to the main dihedral system which is the defining feature of the south face. I led the next four pitches, the first two of which were predominantly aid climbing, and the second two which were mostly free climbing on mixed terrain. On the first of these four pitches, Jorge thought that we should choose the left of two cracks, but I foolishly chose the right crack. When it disappeared into blank rock, I had to make two large pendulums to gain the crack system to the left, and we lost a bunch of time from this route-finding blunder of mine.

Jorge led the next ice pitch, which brought us almost to the top of Standhardt's south face. From here I thought we ought to traverse to the left, but Jorge opted to go straight up instead. Once again his route-finding proved to be right on, and the chimney directly above provided the key to exiting the face. This exit chimney was very steep (overhanging), and probably the crux of the route. Fortunately, a knifeblade crack on the right wall of the chimney made for somewhat straightforward, but strenuous aid nailing.

From Jorge's belay above the exit chimney, I made a few aid moves on rock (and a short fall when a micro-cam popped out of a dubious placement), and then some rime climbing to top out the south face. As usual, the Standhardt summit mushroom was easy and straightforward AI3, and we reached the summit at 9:00pm.

The weather had been steadily deteriorating throughout the day, and by the time we topped out we were both climbing in our belay parkas. Of course it was a pleasure to finish the route, but reaching the summit was also a great relief, because we could descend the relatively-straighforward rappels of Exocet, rather than an epic descent of the Toboggan route, which climbs to the col between Standhardt and Punta Herron. We made all but the first few rappels in the dark, and eventually reached Norwegos just after first light, 25 hours after departing.

We have named the route El Caracol, which means "the snail." This is in part because the word "caracol" in Spanish refers to a spiral shape (that of a snail's shell), which is fitting for our route, but also because of our snail-like pace on the tricky pitches.

Leading an iced-up dihedral on the lower portion of the O'Neil-Martin route on Torre Egger:

Jorge at our high-point on Torre Egger:

Almost done with our bail from Torre Egger:

Jorge leading the first pitch above the Standhardt Col:

Jorge climbing the ramp on Standhardt's east face:

Jorge's belay on the corner of the east and south faces of Standhardt:

Jorge starting up the first pitch on the south face, mixed climbing up and left, with the summits of Cerro Torre and Torre Egger in the background:

Jorge following a quick and easy ice traverse, with the summits of Poincenot, Inominata, St. Exupery, and de la S on the other side of the valley:

Looking down the slow aid pitch, on which I chose the wrong crack, and had to make two time-consuming pendulums to the left:

Feeling a bit worked after the slow aid lead:

Jorge coming up to the belay above the slow aid lead. At the end of this pitch I aided off of two ice screws, because I had left my pack (and therefore my boots and crampons) hanging below.

Jorge following the second aid lead:

Jorge following the last pitch of my block, up classic mixed goullotte climbing:

Jorge starting up an ice pitch near the top of the south face:

Jorge leading the crux exit chimney:

Jorge arriving at the base of the summit mushroom:

Jorge on the summit of Cerro Standhardt:

When we returned to Norewgos we were cold, wet and tired... but at least there was a rainbow!

The south face of Standhardt, showing the line of El Caracol (500m, 5.9, A1+, M4). The route we took is marked (with the pendulum), as well as the route that future parties ought to take, on the crack further to the left.

Cerro Pollone Attempt

2011-11-12T17:14:00.000-08:00

I have returned to El Chalten, in Argentine Patagonia, for hopefully
some more great climbing in the Fitz Roy and Cerro Torre massifs. As
seems to be my un-breakable curse, I arrived just a bit too late to
take full advantage of a weather window. Fortunately, at least this
year the weather window that I missed was not as spectacular as the
ones I missed the past few years.

I hiked into the Torre Valley on the best weather day, Monday, Nov. 7,
and on Tuesday made an attempt on Cerro Pollone, via its original
South Face route. The route was first climbed by an Argentine team in
February 1949, and in the 62 years since it has not been repeated (at
least as far as Patagonia climbing historian Rolando Garibotti is
aware). Cerro Pollone itself did not even see a second ascent until
last February, when Blake Herrington and Scott Bennett reached the
summit via the West Pillar.

The South Face route on Cerro Pollone is not difficult however (at
least until the last 30 meters), and I figured that even alone it
would make a nice mellow warm-up for the Patagonia climbing season. I
left the Niponino bivouac at 4:30 am on Tuesday, and with pretty good
snow conditions, made good time up the icefall at the head of the
Torre Valley to the base of Cerro Pollone's South Face.

The south aspect of Cerro Pollone, from down in the Torre Valley, with
the Filo del Hombre Sentado in the right foreground, showing the line
I attempted. On the lower part I climbed to the right of the rock
buttress, while the original route went to the left, simply because it
looked easy and made the approach shorter.

Looking up Cerro Pollone from below the bergschrund. The mellow ice
flow on the right was a totally contrived variation, but was fun to
climb anyways, mostly just because I hadn't done any ice climbing in
several months:

Nice, plastic water ice:

Most of Cerro Pollone's South Face is a mix of low-angle ice climbing
and navigation around crevasses and bergschrunds. The last 30m summit
tower, however, is the crux of the climb:

After climbing 30 meters of moderate mixed terrain, I was turned
around 2 meters below Cerro Pollone's summit! The final summit block
seemed to be blank rock, covered with too much rime to see any crimps,
and too little rime to climb the rime itself. In any event, trying to
surmount it seemed too sketchy to properly try with a minimalistic
self-belay system. I've been turned around near the tops of mountains
before, but I have never before reached my ice tool to 40cm below the
summit without being able to actually get on top of it!

Despite not being able to complete the ascent, it was nonetheless a
nice warm-up, and climbing on Cerro Pollone provided some cool views
and difference perspectives than I have normally seen in the Torre
Valley. The view to the south, with the Torres on the left in a
cloudcap, and Cerre Piergiorgio, with its fantastic west wall in
profile, on the right:

The view to the east, with an awesome perspective on the Fitz Roy
massif, Cerro Pollone's lower east summit in center, and Aguja Tito
Carrasco in the lower left.

Slesse Climbs

2011-09-09T16:43:00.000-07:00

During the past few weeks I have spent most of my time in Squamish, trying to progress my rock free-climbing skills. I have also been teaching myself how to rope solo, and after practicing on some smaller routes I soloed the Grand Wall and University Wall. I have made a couple forays into the mountains, however - twice to Mt. Slesse with Sarah Hart.

In August we climbed the Northeast Buttress. The Nesakwatch Creek Road was in bad shape, and we had to walk the last few kilometers to the trailhead. The slabs from the propellor cairn to the 4th-class notch in the lower East Buttress were covered in ice blocks, and we almost decided to turn back because of them. The Pocket Glacier itself was in very bad shape, and we had to climb 4-5 pitches of difficult climbing to gain the 3rd-class ramp that is normally used to access the Northeast Buttress. The Northeast Buttress itself went excellently, and the Crossover Pass descent trail that we made last summer is in good shape.

Yesterday we went back to Slesse, with plans to climb the East Buttress (1993 Beckham-Child route). The East Buttress looked quite wet, so we instead climbed the South Peak by a combination of the Southeast Buttress and the gully between the South Peak and the Third Peak. We visited the site of the plane crash, which was an intense experience. We again descended via the Crossover descent.

Fortunately, sometime around the last few days of August, the road up Nesakwatch creek was re-graded, and you can currently drive all the way to the trailhead (the new trailhead, circa 2005, not the old one) in a Subaru.

We plan to go back to Slesse on Saturday, Sept. 17 to work on the trail. The trail has become very overgrown with bushes the past few years, and it is a shame that the access to such an awesome peak isn’t better maintained. If you are interested in helping with the trailwork, send me an e-mail (colinhaley1 AT gmail) with “Slesse Trail Work” in the subject line. Anyone involved will bring their own tools - mostly clippers/loppers will be useful. Even if you’ve never climbed Slesse before, it could be a nice way to learn the access and approach. If the weather is still good, anyone can sleep out on Saturday to climb Slesse on Sunday.

Sarah passing the snow-covered propeller cairn in August. There was much more snow on the ground than typical for the date:

The condition of the pocket glacier in August:

Sarah climbing excellent but time-consuming rock to access the Northeast Buttress:

Some runout but fortunately easy face climbing, just before joining the standard Northeast Buttress start:

Sarah on the Northeast Buttress above the 5.10 direct variation:

High on the Northeast Buttress in the mist:

Sarah on the summit of Mt. Slesse:

After returning to Slesse, Sarah starting up our climb of the South Peak:

Halfway up the southeast side of the South Peak:

Sarah nearing the summit of the South Peak of Slesse:

Sarah making the second of two rappels off the South Peak, into the notch between the South Peak and the main summit:

An evening view back towards Slesse from the Crossover descent route:

Kahiltna 2011: Easy Peak Bagging and Single-Push Failures

2011-06-24T15:42:00.001-07:00

I've just returned to Seattle after spending 41 days on the Kahiltna Glacier with Norwegian friend Nils Nielsen. Due to unlucky timing with weather and conditions we were unsuccessful on our main objectives, but it was an enjoyable trip nonetheless.

We flew into Kahiltna Basecamp on May 12. We wanted to do some easy peak bagging first thing, as a warm-up and to acclimatize a bit. On May 13 we went for our first romp, up Radio Tower, which is a small bump just above basecamp. Nils near the top of Radio Tower:

The next day, May 14, we climbed the "Mini Moonflower" by its trade route, the North Couloir:

Nils crossing the 'schrund on Mini Moonflower:

Nils climbing the crux pitch on Mini Moonflower's North Couloir. The route is a moderate alpine-ice gully, very reminiscent of the popular ice gullies on the east face of Mont Blanc du Tacul.

Colin high in the North Couloir of Mini Moonflower:

Nils nearing the summit of Mini Moonflower:

The following day, May 15, we climbed the East Ridge of Mt. Francis:

Nils high on the East Ridge of Mt. Francis. There were many thinly-bridged crevasses, and I took my first-ever full-body crevasse fall (as opposed to punching a leg through, which I have done many times) - fortunately we were roped up!

After a rest day, we climbed Peak 12,200 on May 17 via its southwest ridge:

Colin on the southwest ridge of Peak 12,200:

On the summit of Peak 12,200 in a whiteout:

Colin on the descent of Peak 12,200:

The next day, May 18, we climbed Humble Peak (often erroneously referred to as "Kahiltna Queen") by the standard route on its west face:

Nils in the big couloir on the west face of Humble Peak:

Nils on the upper ridge of Humble Peak:

Nils just below the summit of Humble Peak:

Colin demonstrating a skier's approach to bergschrund crossings, on the descent of Humble Peak:

Feeling sufficiently acclimatized, and after a few days of bad weather, we made an attempt on one of our main objectives: the north buttress of Begguya (also referred to as "Mt. Hunter"). It is fortunate that climbers have finally largely abandoned the name "Mt. McKinley" in favor of "Denali" for North America's highest mountain - it is high time we also start using the terms "Begguya" and "Sultana" rather than "Mt. Hunter" and "Mt. Foraker." Not only is it ridiculous for western explorers to rename mountains which had been named thousands of years earlier by the native Americans who lived within sight of them, but many of the western names have almost no connection to the area in which the mountain is located. The name "Mt. Hunter" comes from Anna Falconett Hunter, who was the aunt of Robert Dunn, who was a newspaper reporter from New York on Frederick Cook's [who later was found to lie about an ascent of Denali] 1903 Denali expedition. Not only does the name "Hunter" have almost no connection to the mountain, but it was originally applied to Kahiltna Dome and later accidently applied to Begguya!

Likewise, it is time we start referring to "Mt. Rainier" as "Tahoma," "Mt. Baker" as "Kulshan" and "Glacier Peak" as "Dakobed," among others...

On May 23 we attempted the north buttress of Begguya via a combination of the "Deprivation" route and the Bibler-Klewin route:

Colin just above the bergshcrund on Deprivation:

Nils a couple rope-lengths above the 'schrund on Deprivation. Conditions on the lower part of the route seemed quite good, and we were able to simul-solo to the base of the route's crux pitch.

Colin climbing a steep ice step shortly before the crux pitch of Deprivation:

Nils soloing more moderate alpine ice:

Colin starting up the crux pitch of Deprivation. I thought the technical difficulties on this pitch were not extreme (AI5), but it was definitely X-rated, with about a 20 meter runout through the steepest portion, on vertical neve.

Colin starting the ramp above the first iceband on Deprivation:

Nils arriving at the left-trending ramp above the second iceband on Deprivation:

In the third iceband we diverged from the original Deprivation route, and joined up with the Bibler-Klewin route. Nils starting the "Bibler Come Again" exit pitches:

Nils starting up the final iceband above the Bibler Come Again exit:

The weather started to deteriorate quickly as we were climbing the final iceband, and by the time we had passed the "cornice bivy" it was windy and snowing hard. Nonetheless, we were hopeful that it was just temporary, and continued up the ridge until we could find a crevasse to take shelter in. Inside the crevasse we had some shelter from the wind and snow, and spent a couple hours eating and re-hydrating. We had taken 9 hours to climb from the bergschrund on Deprivation to the crest of the north buttress, which we were quite pleased with.

After we finished brewing we packed up to head towards the summit, but upon exiting the crevasse we found the weather had gotten much worse, and was now snowing very hard and very windy. Disappointed, we returned to the crevasse to reorganize, and starting descending, approximately 600 vertical meters shy of the summit. Colin rappelling the final iceband:

For the first half of the descent the weather was very bad, and we were hit almost constantly by big spindrift avalanches. Nils starting another rap on the final iceband:

We chose to rappel the Bibler-Klewin route rather than Deprivation, because Deprivation is a very traversing route. Colin rapping below the "Vision" pitches:

Yet more rappelling... The nice thing about rappelling the North Buttress is that there is enough ice to rappel on v-threads the entire way, and by threading the rope directly through the v-threads we were able to rappel a 1,500m buttress without leaving behind a single sling!

A view of Begguya from Humble Peak. This view offers a good perspective, and shows clearly that the top of the north buttress is only about two-thirds of the way up the route.

Back in basecamp the day after our attempt on Begguya. Our weather-thwarted attempt was surrounded on either side by perfectly sunny days. Unfortunately, with next-to-useless weather forecasts available for the Central Alaska Range, we had no way to predict which days would be better or worse, since the forecast for every single day is "partly cloudy, chance of showers." On the left is Nils, and on the right is Swedish extreme skier Andreas Fransson, who had just returned to basecamp after making the first ski descent of the south face of Denali (roughly following the Haston-Scott route), which was the most significant accomplishment of 2011 in the Central Alaska Range.

Other notable activity on the north buttress of Begguya this season included two attempts by British parties and an ascent by a Korean team:

-English alpinists Jon Bracey and Matt Helliker attempted a new variation of the Bibler-Klewin route. They climbed in heavy, slow style (with a portaledge and plenty of food), but nonetheless in clean, alpine style. Starting just to the left of the Bibler-Klewin and right of Wall of Shadows, they climbed difficult new terrain until joining the Bibler-Klewin route on the second iceband (approximately half-way up the buttress and one-third of the way up the Bibler-Klewin route). They followed the Bibler-Klewin route to the top of the buttress, and retreated approximately 600 vertical meters shy of the summit.

-Scottish alpinists John "Spider" McKenzie and Paul "Stork" Thorburn attempted the Bibler-Klewin route, climbing to the top of the buttress and retreating approximately 600 vertical meters shy of the summit.

-Like the 2010 season (when two young French climbers made an ascent of the Bibler-Klewin route), there was only one ascent of Begguya by the north buttress in 2011. A strong Korean team composed of Sukmun Choi, Jongil Park and Heeyong Park made the solitary ascent of the season, via the Bibler-Klewin route.

After our attempt on Begguya we packed up basecamp and headed up to the 14 camp on Denali. We were greated by exciting news that four of our good friends from Chamonix had just made fast climbs of the Cassin Ridge. Swedes Andreas Fransson and Magnus Kastengren climbed the Cassin with one bivouac round-trip from the 14 camp. This is a notably fast time, especially considering that Andreas had very little rest after his descent of the south face, and also because both of them are more skiers than they are climbers. British climbers Jon Griffith and Will Sim had just climbed the Cassin as a day-trip, going from the bergshrund to the summit ridge in 14:40. Jon and Will did not finish the route to the summit of Denali, and thus it cannot truly be considered a speed record (it would be exactly analogous to Ueli Steck stopping his watch upon reaching the Mittellegi Ridge rather than on the summit of the Eiger). Ironically, however, Mugs Stump did not reach the summit of Denali either during his famous climb of the Cassin Ridge in 1991. Mugs climbed from the bergschrund to the summit ridge in 15:00, so in any event Jon and Will made a very impressively fast climb and an improvement upon Stump's time.

Considering how easy the final summit ridge of Denali is from where the Cassin joins it, it might seem difficult to understand why anyone would retreat from there. However, from personal experience I know that climbing the Cassin Ridge as a day trip is extremely exhausting physically, and when you are suddenly presented with an option to go down a beaten track it takes a lot of motivation to instead continue walking uphill. Add into the mix the fact that Jon and Will reached the summit ridge in cold, windy weather, and it becomes easier to understand their decision.

Chamonix crew at the 14 camp on Denali - from left to right: Jon Griffith, Will Sim, Nils Nielsen, Andreas Fransson, Colin Haley and Magnus Kastengren. Jon and Will have been the most active alpinists of the past couple years in the Chamonix valley, Andreas has been the most active extreme skier of the past couple years in the Chamonix valley, and Magnus is an evil genius.

During his last trip to the US (to Yosemite Valley), Magnus ran into trouble with the law, so this time he was doing his best to fit in as an average American:

Nils and I spent a couple weeks acclimatizing at the 14 camp on Denali. On June 4 we climbed and skied the "Rescue Gully," which is a broad gully below the 17,000 ft. camp. Colin on the way up the Rescue Gully:

Nils skiing the upper portion of the Rescue Gully:

Colin skiing lower down in the Rescue Gully. There hadn't yet been much snow at this point, and it took careful route-finding to avoid patches of blue ice.

On June 6 we went to the summit of Denali for Nils's first time and my eleventh time, via the Upper West Rib. Nils near the top of the Upper West Rib:

On the summit of Denali:

Colin on the descent of the West Buttress with an altitude headache:

Colin skiing powder above the 14 camp on a rest day:

A guided group gave us a couple climbing magazines to read. Colin learning to train like Ueli, but wondering, "What the fuck is mental training???"

On June 10 we went to the summit of Denali a second time, via the Orient Express. Colin climbing up the Orient Express:

Nils on Denali's final summit ridge:

On the summit of Denali again - this time fortunately with skis:

Nils making the first couple turns below the summit of Denali. Surprisingly, the snow here was the best of the whole descent, with creamy, dense powder.

Colin starting down the upper part of the Orient Express:

Colin skiing the Orient Express:

Nils skiing the Orient Express:

After sufficient acclimatization we felt ready to try another of our main objectives: the Cassin Ridge. Unfortunately, like I experienced in 2010 with Bjørn-Eivind Årtun, once we were well acclimatized it began to snow a lot. There were other teams at the 14 camp intending to climb the Cassin, but unfortunately, when the weather broke no one seemed interested in starting up the route unless somebody else put a track in. Thus, running out of time, we left the 14 camp on the evening of June 17, pessimistic about the snow conditions but eager to try nonetheless. Taking off from 14 camp:

Like in 2010, we approached via the Seattle '72 Ramp, and it worked excellently. Without tracks to follow, and going at a moderate pace to conserve our energy, we still arrived at the bergschrund below the Japanese Couloir only 3 hours after leaving the 14 camp. Colin at the brew stop below the Japanese Couloir:

After having some dinner and re-hydrating, we crossed the 'schrund and started up the route. Colin in the Japanese Couloir:

Nils at the top of the Japanese Couloir:

Colin on the crux of the Cassin Ridge, above Cassin Ledge:

Nils on the crux:

The Japanese Couloir was in excellent condition, with either neve or soft ice the whole way. Unfortunately, after there our fears were confirmed, with lots of fresh snow on the route. Nils on the knife-edge ridge:

Nils near the top of the Hanging Glacier, with deep trail-breaking:

Nils climbing in the First Rock Band:

Nils higher in the First Rock Band:

Colin wallowing through deep snow in the First Rock Band:

Nils on an awkward move in the First Rock Band:

Colin wallowing through more deep snow in the First Rock Band:

Nils wallowing between the First Rock Band and Second Rock Band:

Nils wallowing in the Second Rock Band:

Slightly steeper wallowing in the Second Rock Band:

Nils wallowing in the Second Rock Band:

Nils wallowing in the Second Rock Band. Just above this point, we had a very scary experience. Nils was climbing in front, and accidentally released a small slab avalanche directly above me. Although it was a small area, the slab was thick and dense and nearly swept me off. Needless to say, I was quite shaken up and not very psyched when we arrived at a brew stop on top of the Second Rock Band just above. We had made good time up to this point, taking 6 hours from the bergschrund to the top of the Second Rock Band, but because of all the deep snow we had used up way more energy than we would have liked.

Nils breaking trail above the Second Rock Band. Normally here you walk out in the middle of the snow slopes, but we hugged the rocks to mitigate the scary avalanche conditions.

Nils wallowing above the Second Rock Band:

After rejoining the ridgecrest above the Third Rock Band, at approximately 18,000 ft, we stopped to take a break. So much trail-breaking through the deep snow had completely exhausted us, and we decided we were too tired to safely continue upwards. We bailed via a long descending traverse across the upper southwest face to the Upper West Rib and eventually back down to the 14 camp. Nils on the traverse across the upper southwest face:

Nils near the end of the long traverse:

After our attempt of the Cassin we were nearly out of time on our expedition, so we packed up camp at 14, and headed down to basecamp. Colin waiting for the weather to clear and TAT to pick us up:

Verte-Courtes-Doites-Eiger

2011-04-12T02:46:00.000-07:00

The last couple weeks have been very busy for me here in Chamonix, catching first bin at the Midi or Grands Montets most days. During a week of on and off snowfall I went mostly lift-served skiing - most of it mediocre, but with some nice snow in the Capucin Couloir (off the north side of the Tacul Shoulder). The weather then began to clear, and the past week was warm and sunny every day, with lots of opportunity to go out on bigger days.

Nils Nielsen and I went and climbed Aiguille Verte via the Couterier Couloir. Colin climbing up the Couterier. Photo by Nils.

On the summit of Aiguille Verte with Mont Blanc behind. Photo by Nils.

We descended via the Whymper Couloir, in mostly horrible snow conditions. I down-climbed the top and bottom sections of the couloir, but skied the middle portion. Photo by Nils.

Next up was a day out with Maxime Turgeon to ski the Northeast Face of Les Courtes. Max climbing up the Northeast Face.

Max starting down the Northeast Face of Les Courtes. The first 50 meters was powder-covered ice. The skiing on the rest of the face was decent, but not as good of conditions as I had on it last year.

The next day I went back to Les Courtes with Nils to climb the Swiss Route on the north face. Nils crossing the bergschrund on the right.

Nils getting hit with some spindrift just above the crux of the Swiss Route.

Nils high on the Swiss Route.

Myself near the top of the north face of Les Courtes. Photo by Nils.

On the summit of Les Courtes with dried bananas. Conditions on the Swiss Route were excellent, allowing us to reach the summit 2 hours after crossing the 'schrund.

A few days after Les Courtes, Nils and I went back to the north face of Les Doites, this time with some skis, extra food and cooking equipment in our packs, with hopes to continue the next day to the Grandes Jorasses. Colin starting the first pitch of the Ginat above the central icefield. Photo by Nils.

Nils on the north face of Les Doites, branching off the Ginat route and onto the Messner.

Nils leading an ice ramp on the Messner Route.

Colin high on the Messner Route. Photo by Nils.

Nils on the summit ridge of Les Doites.

Colin on one of the rappels off the south side of Les Doites.

Rigging another rap on the south side of Les Doites, with the Grandes Jorasses behind. Photo by Nils.

Nils skiing down into the Talefre Basin from the south side of Les Doites. Snow conditions on the south side were horrendous, which caused us to reconsider our Grandes Jorasses plans for the next day. The descent off the Italian side of Grandes Jorasses involves a lot of down-climbing steep snow and hanging glaciers, which might be dangerous, and certainly a pain in the ass, in such bad snow conditions.

Rather than descend to the Leschaux hut to try the Grandes Jorasses the next day, we decided to stay in the Talefre Basin at the Couvercle hut. The view of Grandes Jorasses in the evening from the Couvercle hut. Photo by Nils.

Nils texting hot chicks from the Couvercle winter bivouac shelter.

Without knowing much about it, the next morning we decided to attempt the Aiguille du Triolet from the Talefre Basin. Colin on the Talefre side of the Aiguille du Triolet, with the main summit behind. We decided to try to climb the ridge from the two false summits, which was a mistake, and we dead-ended on steep, loose ridge climbing (we now know we should have traversed under the false summits on the north side). Photo by Nils.

The main summit of the Aiguille du Triolet from our high point on one of the false summits.

Over the past weekend Nils and I drove to Switzerland to attempt the Eiger Nordwand with the beautiful weather. Nils packing gear in Grindelwald, with the Eiger above.

The town of Grindelwald, with the Wetterhorn above (on the left).

Nils filing his ice tools at the Eigergletscher train station, where we slept the night before the climb. Above him on the left is the north face of the Mönch and the north face of the Jungfrau on the right.

We started up the 1938 route the next morning at 6:15am. Nils on the first step of climbing.

We simul-soloed the first portion of the face. Nils coming up a little mixed chimney.

Nils climbing another mixed step on the lower portion of the face. I've barely ever climbed on limestone, so it took some getting used to for me.

Nils just below the "difficult crack," where we put on the rope.

Nils above the "difficult crack," with Kleine Sheidegg visible below the face. We had a truly Alps climbing experience on the Eigerwand, because a music festival happened to be taking place in Kleine Sheidegg last weekend, and for the upper half of the face we could clearly hear the pop music pumping up the face.

Myself starting up the Ramp. Photo by Nils.

Myself on the "waterfall pitch," which I thought was the crux of the route. I think it was approximately M5 - moderate, but certainly very impressive for the 1930's! Photo by Nils.

Myself following the "brittle ledges." Photo by Nils.

Myself on the "exit cracks" in pretty dry conditions. There is probably no other route in the world with more significant climbing history than the 1938 route on the Eiger. I thought it was really special to visit all the places I remember reading about in Harrer's "The White Spider" when I was a kid. Climbing the route makes me want to re-read the classic book and refresh my memory. Photo by Nils.

Myself on the summit of the Eiger at 2:00pm. We were slowed down a bit because we had to pass six parties (yes, there were nine rope-teams on the 1938 route on Sunday!), but nonetheless the conditions were great and 7:45 from the base to the summit felt like decent time. Climbing the 1938 route leaves me even more impressed by Ueli Steck's incredibly fast time of 2:47. I think this speed record is amazing, and much more impressive than the current speed record on The Nose. Think about it - a whole bunch of climbers have now climbed The Nose in less than 3 hours, but the second-fastest time on the Eiger is 4 and a half hours (set by Italian Christoph Hainz in 2003). Photo by Nils.

Summit photo.

Nils re-hydrating on the summit of the Eiger.

Nils on the descent down the west face, which is very quick, easy and straightforward, but a bit scary because the standard route this time of year puts you below a serac for a bit.

Drying gear in the afternoon back at the Eigergletscher station. Photo by Nils.

Bjørn-Eivin Årtun arrived in Cham Sunday night as we returned from the Eiger, so yesterday the two of us climbed the Contamine route on the south face of the Aiguille du Midi to use up the last of the splendid weather window. Bjørn-Eivind on the second pitch of the Contamine route.

The Alpine Playground

2011-03-29T10:33:00.001-07:00

I've returned for a few weeks to the ultimate alpine playground, Chamonix, to do some enjoyable skiing and climbing on the fantastic peaks here, and hopefully gain some fitness for the Alaska climbing season. Chamonix has experienced a really lean snow year, but there are always good things to do here.

I've been skiing and climbing a bunch with Norwegian friend Nils Nielsen, with whom I am also headed to Alaska soon. Our first day out was a nice tour up to the Passage d'Argentiere. In the background are the north faces of Les Courtes, Les Doites and Aiguille Verte. Photo by Nils.

Next up was a ski of the Glacier du Milieu on Aiguille d'Argentiere. We were joined by Swedish skier Morgan Sahlen. Nils and Morgan coming up the last bit of the Glacier du Mileu:

Nils, Morgan and myself on the summit of Aiguille d'Argentiere. Photo by Nils.

Morgan dropping in heavy and blowing shit up like a muthafuckin' powder gangsta. Photo by Nils.

A few days later Nils and I went to one of my favorite faces anywhere, the north face of Les Doites, to climb a combination of Le Ginat and the Messner Route. Looking up at the north face of Doites from below the base. Photo by Nils.

Nils crossing the bergschrund:

Myself low on the route. This section is the most commonly climbed start to Le Ginat, but is actually part of the Messner Route. Photo by Nils.

We simul-soloed to the top of the central ice field, and then climbed to the summit in three simul-climbing pitches. Myself on the first roped section. Photo by Nils.

Nils coming up to a belay shortly after diverging from Le Ginat. The camera tilt was not intentional!

Nils starting the second simul-climbing pitch.

Myself coming up to a belay. Photo by Nils.

Myself starting the third simul-climbing pitch, which took us to the summit of Les Doites. My two previous "climbs" of Le Ginat, like 95% of the "ascents" of Le Ginat, finished at the Breche des Doites and then bailed to the south side. It was nice, therefore, to finally take the line to it's logical conclusion on the summit of the mountain. Photo by Nils.

On the summit of Les Doites. Photo by Nils.

Nils checking out the descent down the south side, with Les Grandes Jorasses and Mont Blanc behind.

To return to our skis in the Argentiere basin we chose to climb over Les Courtes and downclimb the Northeast Face of Les Courtes. Nils coming up the West Ridge of Les Courtes:

On the summit of Les Courtes in the evening. Photo by Nils.

Starting down Les Courtes in the late evening. Photo by Nils.

Myself downclimbing the Northeast Face of Les Courtes, with Aiguille du Chardonnet and Aiguille d'Argentiere behind. Nils, who claims he is "not so much the aggro, cocky type of mountain guide, but more like the metrosexual mountain guide," thought the evening light in this photo was romantic, and would help us score chicks. Photo by Nils.

Viking Alpinism

2011-03-16T05:54:00.000-07:00

In May 2006 I spent a magical week in the Lofoten Islands of northern Norway. Situated above the arctic circle (aka, outside of the "moral circle"), and jutting out into the North Atlantic, the Lofoten Islands have an enchanting scenery of craggy peaks coming straight out of the rough ocean. My trip to Lofoten in 2006 was during the most joyful and carefree period of my life, in the company of a beautiful girl, and blessed by perfect, sunny weather - so, needless to say, despite only doing some very moderate climbing, it left me with wonderful memories.

Thus, when the Norsk Tindeklubb (Norwegian Alpine Club) invited me to join their winter climbing meet this year in Lofoten, I was psyched to join, and revisit this special place. The meet was held during the first week of March. I climbed mostly with my friend Bjørn-Eivind Årtun, but there were lots of great folks from various countries to socialize with in the evenings. The entire week was plagued with stormy weather, but we had a great time anyways. The wind and blowing snow just makes you feel more like a Viking, which, after all, is the whole point (well, at least for me)!

Lofoten is a very scenic place, so here's a rather photo-heavy post...

Flashback: Myself on the beach at Kalle in May 2006. Photo by Camilla Gjørtz.

The same beach and view in March 2011:

Flashback: The view towards the peaks from the beach at Kalle in 2006. Photo by Camilla Gjørtz.

The same view, minus the flip flops:

On our first day in Lofoten, Bjørn-Eivind and I climbed this buttress above Eggum. It looked more impressive from the road than it turned out to be up close, but it was a nice warm-up nonetheless. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind Årtun.

Ice, moss, and saltwater: myself starting up the buttress above Eggum. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind Årtun.

The last section of the buttress above Eggum. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind Årtun.

Our next climb was a line on Vågakallen, one of the nicest peaks in Lofoten. Some British friends were headed to Vågakallen the same day to climb a different line. Here is Nick Bullock on the approach, with Vågakallen behind. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind Årtun.

Myself feeling like a Viking in the gully that we started up on Vågakallen. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind Årtun.

Bjørn-Eivind a bit higher in the gully, almost getting knocked off by the spindrift:

We branched off the right side of the gully, to climb the buttress to the right of the Storpillaren. Colin navigating some mixed terrain.

Bjørn-Eivind scratching around on Vågakallen:

On the summit of Vågakallen in stormy conditions. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind Årtun.

Myself downclimbing the summit ridge of Vågakallen, with the shoreline and some small islands visible below. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind Årtun.

Rappelling off a rime-covered boulder. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind Årtun.

Climbing Vågakallen was definitely the best, and most memorable day I had in Lofoten. The climb went fairly smoothly, but fortunately the descent and hike out along the coastline had more excitment: nightfall, a non-working headlamp, an overhanging rappel into saltwater, and kilometers of crawling and climbing across snow-covered, seaside boulders and cliffs. Never before have I had seaweed on my crampons, or had saltwater washing over my winter climbing boots. Never before have I dove from one boulder to another, in crampons, to avoid a big wave. And all the while, the snow kept dumping down. This was Viking Alpinism! Photo by Bjørn-Eivind of me pulling the rappel ropes, standing on a boulder in the water:

On our next climbing day we were joined by fellow junkie of Patagonian climbing, Trym Atle Sæland, for the Swiss Route on Abrahamstind. Trym on the approach, with Abrahamstind behind. The route is the obvious, straight white line in the center.

Myself starting up the runout first pitch of the Swiss Route. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind Årtun.

Bjørn-Eivind coming up to the belay at the top of the first pitch:

Bjørn-Eivind on a mixed step higher on the Swiss Route:

Trym starting up the second-to-last pitch:

I thought Abrahamstind had the highest-quality climbing of the routes we climbed in Lofoten. Bjørn-Eivind following the second-to-last pitch of the Swiss Route:

Trym and Bjørn-Eivind on the summit of Abrahamstind, with the fjord below.

On our last day in Lofoten we headed out with lover-boy Marius Olsen to climb an ice/mixed line that he had spotted on the Svolværgeita (Svolvær Goat). The Svolværgeita is a craggy pinnacle directly above the town of Svolvær, and one of the most famous landmarks in Lofoten. Here is Marius, Bjørn-Eivind and myself on the approach, with the Svolværgeita above. The line we climbed is the white line in the center. Photo by Marius Olsen.

Looking down upon the town of Svolvær from the base of the Svolværgeita. Wouldn't it just be horrible if your neighborhood had a view like this?

Marius leading the crux first pitch of the line we climbed. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind Årtun.

Myself leading the second-to-last pitch, at which point we had joined a classic summer rockclimb. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

Fortunately I knew the beta! Myself leading the same pitch in 2006, under slightly different conditions. Photo by Camilla Gjørtz.

Svolvær lighting up at dusk:

I spent the week afterwards in Oslo, with some visits to the climbing gym, a day ice climbing in Rjukan, and a bit of nordic skiing. Marius and myself in a bit of a tangle. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind Årtun.

Cerro Torre Attempts

2011-02-23T14:35:00.000-08:00

My last two forays into the mountains of the Fitz Roy massif were to attempt a natural line on the Southeast Ridge of Cerro Torre. Zack Smith and I made an attempt that was thwarted by iffy weather, and a week later I made another attempt with Rolando Garibotti and Doerte Pietron, to the exact same highpoint, and again turned back by poor weather.

The Southeast Ridge of Cerro Torre, viewed from the shoulder:

Zack arriving at the shoulder, with Fitz Roy behind:

Zack at the shoulder:

Colin following on the lower Southeast Ridge (photo by Zack Smith):

Zack climbing on the Southeast Ridge, surrounded by Maestri insanity (click to enlarge):

Zack leading the first pitch of the Salvaterra variation (a beautiful A1 crack), with Maestri's insanity heading out towards blank rock to the right of the ridge (click to enlarge):

Zack and myself at a belay station on the Salvaterra variation:

Zack leading on the Salvaterra variation. Below him is one of the 8 total bolts on the Salvaterra variation, including all belay bolts (the variation avoids literally hundreds of Maestri bolts):

During the second attempt, Rolo and Doerte at the "Banana Crack:"

Rolo on the Salvaterra variation:

Rolo rappelling down the Salvaterra variation:

Rolo and Doerte descending the lower Southeast Ridge:

DAVID LAMA AND CERRO TORRE - GOOD NEWS

2011-01-30T13:22:00.000-08:00

A couple days ago, on January 28th, David Lama posted on his blog that he will not rappel-bolt on Cerro Torre. It is written in German, but Doerte Pietron made a quick translation for me. The third paragraph, where he refers about his planned tactics, roughly reads:

"Unfortunately I couldn't take a look at the headwall yet, and therefore couldn't get any info about the rock, crack systems, possibilities to free climb... I hope we will get good conditions to get to the summit soon. Only then I will see if free climbing the headwall is even thinkable. I want to stay on the Compressor Route as much as possible, but I will refrain from equipping rappelling. If variations should be necessary I will have to equip them climbing up from the bottom; a time consuming task for the short Patagonian good weather windows."

Also, the guides from Lama's expedition have said that while they were climbing a few days ago on the lower portion of the Compressor Route, they did successfully remove the 7 remaining bolts that they had placed last year (for a total of 36).

So, Lama has now stated that his team will not fix any ropes, that they will not place any bolts on the Compressor Route, and that if they place any bolts on new variations the bolts will be hand-drilled on lead. For most of us it is a great relief to hear this.

Without a doubt, Lama's reconsideration of his tactics was influenced by the many people who voiced their opinions against rappel-bolting. Thank you to everyone for speaking out, and thank you to David for listening.

With David's adjusted intentions, I wish him the best of luck on his project! May this hopefully be the last time I write about David's project on my blog, except perhaps to congratulate him for a successful free climb.

Lama's project, nonetheless, is daunting and difficult. Since Alex Huber spent time contemplating a free ascent of the Compressor Route, I asked him for his thoughts on the subject:

"I climbed the Compressor route in January 2002 in order to see how it could be climbed free. The mountain is fantastic, the line is stunning... so it seemed to be waiting for free climbing. After the ascent the enthusiasm was not the same anymore as there had been various reasons which didn´t make this project very attractive.

First there are the conditions... you have to wait to get the right conditions. You need much more than just fine weather, you need dry conditions as well. Then you need the motivated partner which is really a big problem on such a long-lasting project. And in the end, the quality of the granite is really poor on the headwall. Loose and rotten flakes not just as nice as you would expect. And there could be a big question mark on the end of the headwall. It looks like that the free climbable path on the
headwall leaves the bolt ladder some 30 meters below the compressor, leading up and left following a series of thin ramps. Then it looks like that these features run out, some ten meters of slightly overhanging, compact granite. Then easier terrain and soon the ice of the summit plateau. These ten meters of slightly overhanging, compact granite are crucial because, from the distance, the surface looks very brittle and I am not so sure that the thin features would be solid enough for a free climb.

In the end I could see that, for a great free climb, the mountain as well as the line would be perfect, but the climb itself not at all. Free climbing there would be much more for name and fame than for fun."

And one last reminder of why we care:

CLARIFICATIONS ABOUT CERRO TORRE, DAVID LAMA AND REDBULL

2011-01-27T18:25:00.001-08:00

After making my earlier blog post, most all of the climbers in El Chalten headed into the mountains in pursuit of a forecasted weather window. The weather window turned out worse than was forecasted, which was a relief for me because I've got a bit of a cold and wouldn't have been able to climb anything big anyways. Team Redbull climbed a short ways above the Col of Patience on the Compressor Route, and seemed to be doing a bunch of filming. Hopefully they managed to take out the rest of their bolts from last year that Rolo, Doerte and I weren't able to get. I'm sure that people got up to some good adventures, but not many climbers have come down from the mountains yet.

While most of the climbers here were up in the mountains, it seems the rest of the climbing world caught wind of Lama's intention to rappel-bolt the Compressor Route headwall, and the internet debates flamed up yet again. I've had a chance to read some of the internet forums on the subject, and there is certainly a lot of strong language both against Lama and in support of Lama. More than anything though, what I've seen is a lot of people posting on the subject who obviously have some misconceptions about Cerro Torre, about the Compressor Route, and about the controversy at hand. So, since I don't have time to get involved in every internet forum, I feel obligated to make a follow-up blog post clarifying some things. I'm sorry that I can't make it more concise, but if you plan to voice your opinion on the subject (on either side) please at least read all of it:

1. IT'S NOT ABOUT ME

The debate about whether or not it is acceptable to rappel-bolt on Cerro Torre has very little to do with me. I personally would've greatly preferred to keep my name out of this controversy, but I felt the climbing world deserved to know what David Lama plans to do, and since I was the one who had a direct conversation with him, it was obviously my duty to bear the news. All that has unfolded on the internet since my blog post is others' reactions, not mine. I did not start the petition to have Lama's sponsors drop him, and have not even signed it. And I can only hope that all the people advocating to "kick David Lama's ass" aren't serious.

2. LAST YEAR AND THIS YEAR ARE DIFFERENT

An important thing to keep in mind is that last season's controversy and the current controversy are very different in both nature and significance. What Team Redbull did on Cerro Torre last season (fix 700 meters of rope on a popular route, and place 34-36 bolts on an established route, next to existing anchors and perfect granite cracks) is recognized by virtually everyone as completely unacceptable. Even Team Redbull themselves have admitted that it was out of line. The bolts that have been chopped by Rolando Garibotti and crew are these ones, and Team Redbull has promise to chop the remaining ones that they placed last season. That Team Redbull has come around and changed their tactics from last year is something to be happy about!

While Team Redbull's actions last season were very obviously unethical, their proposed tactics this year are a much more nuanced issue. Last year's travesty was about disregard for the experience of other climbers, bolting next to cracks on an established route and leaving garbage - this year's controversy, on the other hand, is about climbing style. It is a much less black-and-white issue.

3. IT'S NOT ABOUT BOLTS, IT'S ABOUT CLIMBING STYLE

The controversy about David Lama's tactics this season is not about whether or not he will put more bolts in Cerro Torre - it's about how he might put them in. Some people feel that bolts have no place in the alpine world, and that in the face of unprotectable climbing one should either bail or completely run it out. While I don't share this exact sentiment, I do admire it. However, many alpine climbers, myself included, feel that the rare hand-drilled bolt, where no cracks can be found, in extreme terrain, is acceptable. As I wrote in my earlier blog post (but many people obviously missed), I think it is entirely reasonable for Lama to bring a bolt kit and hand drill a few bolts. If I were to attempt a natural line on the Compressor Route headwall ("natural" meaning a line connecting flakes, face holds and cracks, whereas Cesare Maestri chose to simply drill a bolt ladder up two pitches of completely blank rock), I would bring a small bolt kit also.

The controversy is about whether or not those hand-drilled bolts will be drilled while on lead, or while hanging from a rappel rope. There has never been any rappel-bolting on the peaks of the Fitz Roy massif in the past, so it is a new ethical debate here. The reason this has never been an issue in the past is because there are no truly "easy" routes to these summits. Unlike El Capitan, the Verdon Gorge, Medlicott Dome or the Black Canyon of the Gunnison, you can't simply walk up the "back side" and rappel in here. It would be extremely difficult for Team Redbull to rappel-bolt the Cerro Torre headwall if not for the obscene bolt-ladders of the Compressor Route.

4. CERRO TORRE IS NOT EL CAPITAN

Much of the internet debate I have seen makes comparisons to other climbing areas, asking "If rappel-bolting is OK at Rifle, why not Cerro Torre?" Most climbers agree that rappel-bolting is acceptable in some places to some extent and definitely unacceptable in other places. Without a doubt, there is a very large gray area in between. While I feel strongly that rappel-bolting on Cerro Torre is unacceptable, I wouldn't personally attempt to draw the line in the gray area.

However, I do feel the need to say that comparisons between Cerro Torre and crags are not particularly relevant. Cerro Torre is an enormous, extremely steep mountain, surrounded by glaciers and located in some of the world's harshest weather. The only thing that makes Cerro Torre remotely pedestrian are the obscene A0 bolt ladders that Maestri drilled into it, and without them it is one of the world's most difficult-to-reach summits. El Capitan, on the other hand, is a roadside bigwall, with hundreds of days per year of good climbing weather and a dirt trail to the top of it. El Capitan is to Cerro Torre what Rifle is to El Capitan.

5. I HAVE NO INTENTION TO FREE CLIMB THE COMPRESSOR ROUTE

Unfortunately, Jason Kruk posted on his blog that Zack Smith and I will also be heading up on the Southeast Ridge of Cerro Torre. I would've rather that not be posted, firstly because I prefer not to pre-spray about climbing I hope to do, and secondly because this is Patagonia - no one knows if they will even get a chance to make an attempt! However, many people saw Jason's blog post and assumed that Zack Smith and I will also be up there trying to free climb the Compressor Route.

First off, free-climbing the Compressor Route is not a goal of mine, and in fact I think it is a poorly-conceived goal. To free climb the Compressor Route, one would have to make two main deviations from the standard route (one is the established Salvaterra variation, and the other would be a possible variant line on the headwall). The Salvaterra Variation is covered in rime ice about 85% of the days of the year, and the possible variant on the headwall is covered in rime ice about 95% of the days of the year. Alex Huber, who is obviously a gifted big-wall free climber, contemplated free-climbing the Compressor Route. However, Alex has enough experience climbing in Patagonia that he realized the conditions and logistics to free-climb the Compressor Route are so difficult to overcome, that the compromised style necessary to accomplish it is not worth the goal. David Lama, on the other hand, came up with his plan before ever even laying his eyes upon the peaks of Patagonia, and obviously is comfortable compromising good climbing style. I think David Lama would be wise to switch objectives to something on Fitz Roy, such as Royal Flush or El Corazon, which are much more suitable for free climbing.

Basically, Cerro Torre is an incredible mountain, and the Southeast Ridge is a beautiful feature on this incredible mountain. To this day, the Southeast Ridge has never been climbed without the aid of a 500-pound, gasoline-powered air compressor and the 400-or-so bolts that it was used to place. My hope, and the hope of others, is to climb the Southeast Ridge without the aid of the Compressor and its trail of bolt ladders. Ironically, if David Lama carries through with his rappel-bolt plan, even a successful free ascent of the Southeast Ridge would have been aided by Maestri's 500-pound Compressor.

6. WHY IS IT BAD TO RAPPEL-BOLT THE CERRO TORRE HEADWALL?

Many people have asked, "What is so horrible about rappel-bolting the headwall?" In truth, I don't think anything about it is horrible. I'm not angered by the idea. In the end, someone will establish an alternate variation to Maestri's bolt ladders on the Compressor Route headwall, and I don't think the number of bolts placed or their locations will differ drastically depending on if they are placed on lead or on rappel. Establishing an alternate, more natural, route on the headwall is an important step forward for the eventual removal of Maestri's obscene bolt ladders. So, in some sense, David Lama's rappel-bolting plans are a wrong step, but a step in the right direction.

However, I do think that rappel-bolting the Compressor Route headwall is sad and pathetic. Almost all of Cerro Torre's Southeast Ridge has already been climbed without the aid of the 500-pound Compressor - the headwall is the last piece of the puzzle. I think it would really be a shame if the last piece of this puzzle is "discovered" by rappel rather than by climbing. I think it is sad that this terrain might never witness the adventure of a first ascent. I think it is sad that no one might ever have the chance to head up this new terrain wondering when the next crack will appear. No one might ever experience the fear of "going for it" up scary face climbing and the rush of relief when he or she discovers a solid cam placement. It is sad to think that this terrain will be rappelled before it's ever been climbed - that on the first ascent of this terrain David Lama will already know how far it is to the next bolt, where he'll find a good rest, and where the next belay will be.

Also, David Lama plans to rappel-bolt the headwall during one weather window, and then go back to try and climb it during a later weather window. Given how infrequent good weather is in Patagonia, and given how infrequently the headwall is not covered in rime ice, even during good weather, there is a large possibility that months or seasons will pass before Lama can return to the headwall with intentions to climb it. A sad and very real possibility is that the alternate line on the headwall will end up, for some time, bolted but unclimbed. And where does this leave other potential first ascencionists? Is it not unfair to rob them of the possibility of a real adventure on this terrain if you haven't even climbed it?

7. IT'S NOT ABOUT DEFAMING DAVID LAMA

I think it is important to keep in mind that Team Redbull has admitted their wrongs from last year and has changed their tactics. It is also important to keep in mind that David Lama hasn't done any rap-bolting on Cerro Torre yet. I barely know David Lama, but every time I've met him in person he has been cordial. My goal is not to defame David Lama. My hope is that the climbing community will express to David Lama an opinion about rap-bolting on Cerro Torre, and that it will cause him to reconsider his tactics. In an ideal world the personal attacks on Lama will cease and simultaneously he will decide, "OK, what the hell, I'll try to do it on lead."

CERRO TORRE, DAVID LAMA AND REDBULL

2011-01-22T13:44:00.000-08:00

In 1959, Cesare Maestri attempted to climb Cerro Torre via it's North Face. At some point during the climb, descent, or descent of the glacier below the face, Maestri's climbing partner, Toni Egger, perished. Maestri claimed that they had made the first ascent of Cerro Torre, and the third member of the expedition, Cesarino Fava, either believed Maestri or agreed to lie in agreement with Maestri. Over time, more and more doubts began to surface as to whether Maestri had indeed climbed Cerro Torre. Today it is widely accepted that Maestri made the most famous lie in the history of climbing.

Angered by all the skepticism, Maestri returned to Cerro Torre in 1970. To "prove" that in 1959 he had made the greatest ascent of all time, by an extremely-difficult line on the North Face (that still has not succombed to many attempts over decades, by extremely talented climbers, such as Alexander Huber, Stefan Siegrist, Thomas Ulrich, Toni Ponholzer, Ermanno Salvaterra, etc) in semi-alpine style, he began sieging an easier line on the mountain (the Southeast Ridge) with the help of a large team, thousands of meters of fixed rope, and a gasoline-powered air compressor to drill bolts with ease. On the lower part of the ridge, Maestri refrained from bolting very much (after all, there are tons of perfect granite cracks), but as he gained elevation it seems he lost more and more reason. He began his siege during the winter, and where the ridge-line (which is the natural line, contains good cracks, and was climbed by Ermanno Salvaterra and Mauro Mabboni in 1999) was caked with rime-ice, he decided instead to bolt a traverse across a huge section of blank rock on the right (east) side of the ridge. Higher up, on the headwall, Maestri drilled pitch after pitch of bolt ladders despite many cracks, because the pitons had accidently been forgotten lower on the route. Strangely, Maestri never even attempted to reach Cerro Torre's summit, and instead descended from the highest rock on the headwall. He didn't even allow his climbing partners to join him at his highest belay station. While rappelling the last pitch that he had climbed, Maestri chopped a long section of his bolt ladder. This is now known as the "Bridwell Pitch," re-drilled with rivets by Jim Bridwell when he and Steve Brewer made the first complete ascent of the Compressor Route (and third ascent of Cerro Torre) in 1979.

Maestri's siege of Cerro Torre's Southeast Ridge shocked the climbing world. Although many routes in the Andes, the Himalaya and Alaska have been "dumbed down" by the use of siege tactics, Maestri's ascent was an unprecedented low in terms of style, and remains today the worst example of climbing style the world has ever seen. Although no one knows exactly how many bolts he drilled into one of the world's most beautiful mountains, estimates range from 350 to 450. It was this disaster which Reinhold Messner coined "the murder of the impossible." The Compressor Route remains the most over-bolted and controversial climbing route in the world today. It makes what would otherwise be one of the world's most difficult mountains to summit a fairly easy climb, with so many pitches of A0 bolt ladders.

Since then, there have been many, many ascents of the Compressor Route (which many people recognize as not a true ascent of Cerro Torre), and two films have been made on it. In 1985, Fulvio Mariani created a film called "Cumbre," which contained footage of Marco Pedrini making the first solo ascent of the Compressor Route. "Cumbre" was filmed in alpine style, with only Mariani and Pedrini involved. It is a beautiful climbing film, and well worth watching. In 1992, Werner Herzog filmed "Scream in Stone" on the flanks of Cerro Torre. His expedition sadly fixed ropes on all of the Compressor Route and the Ferrari Route, and left lots of garbage on the Torre Glacier. However, even his large-scale production (with Hollywood actors, crashed helicopters and all) only felt the need to put two bolts in Cerro Torre.

The 2009-2010 season in El Chalten was memorable for two reasons: exceptionally bad weather (even by Patagonian standards), and the assault on Cerro Torre made by David Lama's Redbull-sponsored expedition. David Lama came to El Chalten with the intent of free-climbing Cerro Torre's Southeast Ridge (the "Compressor Route"), and a large crew came along with him with the intent of filming David Lama's ascent. Unfortunately, the expedition acted without much foresight, and began fixing a string of ropes up the Southeast Ridge. Bad weather prevented them from fixing their ropes beyond Maestri's ninety-meter bolt traverse.

In February 2010 David Lama's expedition left Patagonia early, dismayed by the horrendous weather. They did not bother to remove any of the ropes that they had fixed approximately 700 meters up the Compressor Route. More than a month after leaving Patagonia, Redbull hired several Argentine guides, Horacio Graton, Simon Brun, and Juan Raselli, to go remove Redbull's fixed ropes for them. The Argentine guides succeeded in stripping most of the fixed ropes from the route (but were not able to remove all of them), but were not able to carry all of the detritus down from the route, and thus were forced to leave two haulbags full of equipment at the bergshrund.

Much worse, Graton, Brun and Raselli returned to El Chalten with reports that the David Lama / Redbull expedition had placed approximately 30 bolts on the Compressor Route above the Col of Patience. It soon came to light that the Redbull expedition had in fact used a gasoline-powered generator to recharge their power drills - talk about history repeating itself! As news spread, the climbing world was rightly outraged that the David Lama / Redbull expedition had added bolts to what is already the most over-bolted route in the world, and on terrain where not even Cesare Maestri had felt the need to place bolts.

One of the mountain guides that Redbull had hired to fix ropes, Heli Putz, claimed publicly that only 12 bolts had been placed, and that they had been placed off of the normal climbing route. Because the climbing season was already well over when Heli Putz made this claim, it was impossible to verify if it was true or not.

On November 14, 2010, Rolando Garibotti and Doerte Pietron climbed the Compressor Route, and on their way managed to remove 17 of the Redbull bolts above the Col of Patience (but missed 3 more, which they were not able to remove). They discovered that not only had Heli Putz publicly lied about the number of bolts placed, but he had also lied about their location, with all of the new bolts having been placed on the route, many immediately next to established belays and perfect cracks.

Photo 1: One of the Redbull bolts on the Compressor Route that was removed by Garibotti (photo by Rolando Garibotti).

Photo 2: More Redbull bolts on the Compressor Route (photo by Rolando Garibotti).

Photo 3: The same belay after the bolts were chopped by Garibotti (photo by Rolando Garibotti).

Photo 4: Another of the Redbull bolts above the Col of Patience (photo by Rolando Garibotti).

On January 9, 2011, Rolando Garibotti, Doerte Pietron and myself, Colin Haley, climbed on the lower slopes of the Compressor Route, and we removed 12 more bolts that Redbull had placed below the shoulder (but we weren't able to remove 2-4 more, which are still in place). In this area, Redbull had claimed that they had bolted an alternate rappel route away from the normal one, but again, all of the new bolts were in close vicinity to established natural anchors.

Photo 5: Some of the Redbull bolts below the Col of Patience, which were supposedly drilled on a separate line - yet are located a few meters from established natural rappel anchors (photo by Rolando Garibotti).

Photo 6: The same bolts after they were chopped by Garibotti (photo by Rolando Garibotti).

Photo 7: Some of the leftover garbage: One of Redbull's fixed ropes, now frozen into the snow above the bergshrund. In this vicinity we also found many red, nylon rope protectors strewn about ledges on the rock buttress above (photo by Colin Haley).

THE GOOD NEWS:

David Lama and his crew of mountain guides and film makers returned to El Chalten last week, and many of the climbers here were apprehensive of how his expedition would behave this season. Fortunately, they have learned somewhat from their recklessness last season, and this year they have promised that they will not fix any ropes on route (which is good, because besides the obvious fact that fixing ropes is an unimpressive way to climb, the fixed ropes ruin the experience of other climbers on this popular route). They also have promised not to bolt on the established route, and have promised to remove the remaining 5-7 bolts that they left on the route last season. Their plan now is to climb as five people: in front will be a team of three (two mountain guides and one cinematographer), and behind will be David and his climbing partner, Peter. This is a logical way for them to shoot footage of David Lama's efforts to free-climb the route, and an important step forward for them.

THE BAD NEWS:

David Lama plans to bring a small bolt-kit with him, so that he has the option to hand-drill some bolts if necessary. If he adds bolts to the Salvaterra variation it would be totally out of line, as Salvaterra climbed the variation in 1999, and already placed all the necessary bolts (and Josh Wharton and Zack Smith climbed a variation to the variation in 2007, without adding any bolts). It is reasonable, however, that Lama is bringing the bolt kit, because on the headwall they will likely attempt a different line than the blank rock Maestri bolted, and the line they attempt will likely be terrain on which any climber would use bolts. What is not reasonable, however, is the way David Lama plans to use his bolt kit. In a conversation with me, Lama explained that they plan to reach the summit via the normal Compressor Route bolt ladders, and then rappel a separate line of weakness on the headwall, placing protection bolts on rappel. Yes, that's right - rap-bolting the Cerro Torre headwall! I tried to convince Lama that he might place the bolts on lead, hanging from hooks, but he insisted that rap-bolting was his intention. Zack Smith chimed in with, "You know that people will be very upset if you place your bolts on rappel, right?" Lama's response was "I can take it."

Before coming to Patagonia last season, Lama said in a Redbull interview, "Back in the days of old school mountaineering only conquering the peak was important - not so much how this goal was reached. To make it to the top, pitons and even ladders were used. Daniel and I want to make it without any sort of aid." It is ironic then that he doesn't feel capable of establishing the new terrain on lead, and instead plans to rap-bolt it. It is also ironic that Lama is only capable of rap-bolting Cerro Torre's headwall because of the A0 bolt ladders in place on the Compressor Route - To rap-bolt the headwall without the Compressor Route bolt ladders, Lama would have to first climb Cerro Torre by a difficult route or get dropped on the summit by helicopter. It is a shame that Lama lacks the confidence in his skills to attempt his project in clean, alpine style.

When I first heard that Lama's expedition had abandoned plans to fix ropes up the Compressor Route I was very pleased, and indeed even excited for their project. Sadly, these feelings disintegrated when I learned of Lama's plans to bring Cerro Torre down to his level by rap-bolting the headwall. I personally have nothing against rap-bolting at a sport-climbing crag, but I would've hoped that every climber in the world could see the difference between Cerro Torre and a sport crag. This ethical dilemma has nothing to do with differences between North American climbers and European climbers. The ground-up ethic is perhaps even stronger today in Europe than in North America, with many climbing areas strictly allowing only routes established on lead (famous examples being the Ratikon, or the South Face of the Marmolada).

So this, apparently, is the much-anticipated courage and vision of gym climbers applying their skills to the mountains.

Jardines Japoneses

2011-01-06T11:56:00.000-08:00

The last several weeks delivered mostly all bad weather to the Chalten region. On one of a few slightly better days, Tommy Caldwell and I headed out to climb the Brenner Ridge on Aguja Guillaumet. Guillaumet is one of the smallest, most accessible of the spires here, but nonetheless it was fun to get out climbing in the mountains.

During the last week, however, there has been a bunch of dry weather. During the first half of this window it was still quite windy, and I teamed up on with fellow Washingtonians Mikey Schaefer and Jens Holsten to climb a new route on Mermoz that Mikey had scoped last year and they had attempted a couple weeks earlier in bad weather. Our route, "Jardines Japoneses," (650m AI4 M5 5.10 A1) climbs a very obvious ice and mixed gully on the east face of Mermoz, that joins the Argentine route on the north ridge, and follows the Argentine route to the summit. It had very enjoyable climbing, with all the good alpine ingredients: some ice climbing, some scrappy mixed climbing, some pendulums and makeshift aid climbing, and finally some rock climbing on excellent granite. I took my third-ever alpine lead fall when a snow mushroom I was standing on collapsed. I had fortunately just placed a good camalot, and the fall was down a clean slab. The route is a good addition to the range because it is climbable in conditions less-than-ideal for rock climbing (after you've climbed the Whillans on Poincenot, Amy on Guillaumet, Todo O Nada on Mocho and Exocet on Standhardt you start to run out of options for climbing in boots during mediocre weather). We made the ascent in one long day round-trip from Laguna de los Tres (Dec. 28), slowed down quite a bit on the descent by high winds.

During the later half of the recent good weather it was much calmer, and extremely warm. Lacking a good plan or partner, I hiked up the Torre Valley with vague soloing plans. At Niponino, however, an Italian friend, Andrea, asked if I would climb together, and we made last-minute plans to climb the Kearney-Harrington route on Aguja St. Exupery. We made the ascent in a long day round-trip from Niponino, losing a lot of time by accidentally climbing a scary six-pitch variation at the start called "Los Angelitos."

Tommy leading an excellent hands-to-fists pitch on the Brenner Ridge.

Tommy on the Brenner Ridge.

Tommy atop the rarely-climbed V1 boulder problem of Guillaumet's summit.

Mikey leading on the third pitch of Jardines Japoneses.

Colin leading a super-aesthetic, super-fun and super-easy AI3 chimney-runnel pitch on Jardines Japoneses. Photo by Mikey Schaefer.

The alpine trickery: Mikey making a lower-out from a pendulum point while Jens belays.

Jens and Mikey on Jardines Japoneses.

Colin doing some make-shift aid climbing a couple pitches below the junction with the Argentine route. Photo by Mikey Schaefer.

Jens leading excellent granite on the upper Argentine route.

Jens on the summit of Aguja Mermoz. Photo by Mikey Schaefer.

Colin rappelling in very windy conditions. Photo by Mikey Schaefer.

The line of Jardines Japoneses (650m AI4 M5 5.10 A1), to it's junction with the Argentine route, which is hidden behind the right skyline. Photo by Mikey Schaefer.

Colin making a pendulum on the not-recommended "Los Angelitos" variation to the Kearney-Harringon, on Aguja St. Exupery. Photo by Andrea.

Andrea is a pretty laid-back guy to climb with. Following an A1 corner of the original Buscaini route.

Colin on the upper part of the same corner system near the summit of Aguja St. Exupery. Photo by Andrea.

Exocet Solo

2010-11-30T06:48:00.000-08:00

For the third year in a row, I arrived in Patagonia just at the end of an excellent and long weather window. I immediately hiked up to the Torre Glacier, but alas, I was too late and it closed down. C'est la vie. Fortunately, a two-day window of good weather arrived not too long after, this past Friday and Saturday (Nov. 26-27). I used it to make a solo of Cerro Standhardt, one that I had been planning since last February here in El Chalten.

I left the Niponino bivouac very early Saturday morning, and at four am arrived at the Standhardt-Bifida col, where the Exocet route (500m, WI5, 5.9) begins. In the dark I self-belayed the slabby mixed terrain of the first pitch, and then in the morning sunlight soloed across the large ramp system that rises across Standhardt's east face.

After traversing the ramps, the defining feature of Exocet rises straight above: the vertical and largely-blank granite wall is split by a deep chimney, choked with ice in the back. The chimney is four pitches long, with difficulties of about WI4, WI5, WI5, and WI4. The first two pitches of the chimney I free-soloed, hauling my pack up behind me. I climbed quite slowly, making sure that every tool placement was absolutely bomber. Although the third pitch is no harder than the second (and in fact a bit easier I think), I chose to self-belay it, as I could feel my arms getting tired. The fourth pitch I free-soloed except for a ten-meter step that I self-belayed with a back-loop.

Above the chimney is another slabby mixed pitch which I self-belayed, and I then continued up to summit mushroom, which goes with an easy and straightforward pitch of AI3. I reached the summit at 4pm, twelve hours after beginning, and began my descent. The descent of Exocet is one of the easiest and most straightforward in Patagonia because it is almost entirely on ice and clean slabs, so there is very little for the rappel ropes to catch on. I stumbled back to my tent at Niponino, arriving very tired shortly after dark, and the weather window broke down as I slept through the night. On Sunday the rain didn't let up for a single minute on the long hike from Niponino back to town.

This was the first solo ascent of Cerro Standhardt. In 1994, Tommy Bonapace soloed most of the Exocet route, but was forced to turn back at the top of the ice chimney because of a bad storm.

I had originally planned to take my helmet cam on this solo, but the night beforehand I decided that for free-soloing of this difficulty I didn't want the extra hassle of the equipment, so a few snapshots will have to suffice:

Cerro Torre, Torre Egger, Punta Herron and Cerro Standhardt from the Torre Glacier, with Exocet marked on Standhardt.

Self-belaying the first pitch in the dark.

Looking up while traversing the big ramp system.

Looking up from the base of the ice chimney.

Looking up the third pitch of the ice chimney.

At the base of the third chimney pitch, the self-belay system I used on it. I "invented" this technique specifically for this route, which allowed me to climb a full 60m pitch self-belayed, but then continue up afterwards without having to first rappel and prussik the pitch (but I had to leave the ice screws and pick them up on my descent).

Self portrait at the top of the ice chimney.

Looking to the north, towards Cerro Piergiorgio, while traversing to the summit mushroom.

The view from the summit of Standhardt, of the tops of Cerro Torre, Torre Egger and Punta Herron.

Self portrait on the summit, with Fitz Roy and Poincenot behind.

Yosemite, Skiing and Joe Puryear

2010-10-28T14:58:00.000-07:00

With the exception of Devil's Thumb, I've had generally bad luck with the weather during the past year. September, which is normally a wonderful month in the Cascades, was horrible. I went down to Yosemite for most of October, and the weather was actually better back home in the Cascades! Ah well, I nonetheless got some good climbing in, and worked on my fist jams, offwidths and chimneys, which are definitely weak points for me. A highlight was climbing the Astroman-Rostrum linkup with my friend, Sam Piper, and I was pleased to just barely manage it all free.

There is a meter of new snow at 5,000 ft. in the Cascades, and so on Wednesday I had my first day skiing of the 2010-2011 winter. Dan Aylward and I skinned up to Camp Muir on Mt. Rainier. The ski down, with lots of wind-affected snow, was less-than-ideal, but not too bad for pre-Halloween!

Unfortunately, on our way out skiing we learned of the death of yet another friend and local climber, Joe Puryear. Joe was climbing in Nepal with Dave Gottlieb and broke through a cornice while unroped.

Joe's skill as a climber is apparent to anyone who knew his climbing accomplishments. Joe was also a very kind and unique individual. His quirkiness caught me off guard the first time I met him, but I soon realized that he simply enjoyed a hobby that is a favorite of mine as well: acting weird and watching people's reactions!

Joe was one of very few North American climbers currently practicing old-school alpine-style climbing in the Himalaya. He and Dave Gottlieb have been quietly racking up a slew of first ascents during the past few years, usually in remote, relatively unexplored areas. By old-school I mean that they were tackling big, snowy peaks with lots of difficult corniced-ridges and snow climbing - a type of climbing that doesn't garner a lot of attention these days, but in actuality is often more difficult than WI6 or M6.

During the winter break of my last year of high school, I spent a week climbing waterfalls in the Canadian Rockies with Joe and Mark Westman. Joe was undeniably the rope-gun. In recent years I sometimes crashed at Joe's house in Leavenworth before a winter alpine-start in the Enchantments, enjoying the company of Joe and his wife Michelle. He will be missed by many.

Joe leading the last pitch of The Sorceror, Feb. 2003:

Joe leading the last pitch of Murchison Falls, Feb. 2003:

Early Winter Spire, Slesse, and Upcoming Slideshows

2010-09-27T13:39:00.001-07:00

During the second half of the summer I managed to spend pathetically little time up in the alpine, and pathetically little time climbing in general. This was largely because I spent a few weeks remodeling the SHWOP (small house without plumbing) in my dad's backyard that is my home. I did, however, manage to climb South Early Winter Spire via the Direct East Buttress with my brother, Booth, and our Bulgarian friend, Boris Lukanov. And on a separate occasion, I went and climbed the classic Northeast Buttress of Slesse with Alex Honnold.

Booth following the first 5.11 pitch on the East Buttress of SEWS. I thought this lower-angle slabbier pitch was harder than the steeper, but more featured 5.11 pitch above.

Alex in the Pocket Glacier cirque below the East Face of Mt. Slesse, about to put on crampons for his second time ever!

Alex escaping the chaos of the Pocket Glacier:

Mr. Honnold putting on his most extreme face high on the Northeast Buttress. We simul-soloed most of the route, but I asked for the rope on the 5.10 direct variation. I'm quite glad I did, because we accidently climbed a 5.11/A0 variation to it.

Later this week I'm giving slideshows in Seattle, Portland and Eugene on the new route I climbed on Mt. Foraker in June with Bjørn-Eivind Årtun.

Wednesday, Sept. 29, 7pm, at Feathered Friends in Seattle. Free admission.

Thursday, Sept. 30, 7pm, at the Mazama Mountaineering Center in Portland. Admission is $10, but proceeds go to fund the Mazama grant program.

Friday, Oct. 1, 7:30pm, at Backcountry Gear in Eugene. Admission is $5.

Devil's Thumb, The Diablo Traverse

2010-08-18T14:10:00.001-07:00

Devil's Thumb, The Diablo Traverse

Mikey Schaefer (mikeylikesrocks.com) and I have just come back to Seattle from a quick, fantastic trip to the Stikine Icecap region, on the BC-Alaska border, near Petersburg, Alaska. I have been planning to visit Devil's Thumb for years, but until now never made it to this beautiful mountain range. Our objective was a complete traverse of the Devil's Thumb massif, climbing over the summits of the Witches Tits, Cat's Ears Spires, and finally Devil's Thumb itself. Like the Torres Traverse to Ermanno Salvaterra, this traverse is originally the dream of Dieter Klose, the Stikine's most dedicated disciple.

The traverse was attempted in 2004 by Jon Walsh and Andre Ike, who became the first to traverse all four spires of the Witches Tits and Cat's Ears (making the first ascent of the East Witches Tit in the process), but were stopped at the base of The Thumb by a chopped rope. In 2006 Jed Brown and I applied for a Fellowship Fund Grant to try the traverse. The rejection of our grant application was actually a blessing in disguise, because we switched plans to a less expensive trip, and ended up climbing The Entropy Wall on Mt. Moffit, still one of my best climbs ever.

Inspired by our friends Dave Burdick and John Frieh's execution of such a plan last summer on Burkett Needle, Mikey and I planned our trip in the "smash and grab" style: Rather than sit on a glacier in the rain for weeks, watch the weather forecast from Seattle, and when it looks good buy a last-minute ticket to Petersburg, "smash" into the range (with the assistance of a helicopter), and "grab" a summit (or five) before the weather gods realize they've let you slip by...

So, on the evening of Tuesday, August 10th, we bought tickets for Petersburg departing Seattle the following morning, August 11th. We spent the remainder of Wednesday organizing ourselves in Petersburg with the generous help of Dieter Klose, and buying food and fuel (be warned: isobutane canisters in Petersburg cost twelve dollars apiece!) On Thursday we flew with Temsco Helicopters from Petersburg to a little basecamp below Devil's Thumb's southeast face.

On Friday morning (August 13) we departed our basecamp at the leisurely hour of 8am, and made a descending, traversing approach to the base of the Witches Tits. We climbed to the notch between the two Witches Tits by the Edwards-Millar route, with the Walsh-Ike "Witches Cleavage" variation. The climbing on the upper headwall was absolutely outstanding, and certainly some of the highest-quality alpine rock I've ever touched. The unrepeated Edwards-Millar route looks amazing, as does the unrepeated Belcourt-Rackliffe route. We left our packs in the notch between the Tits, and quickly tagged the summit of the West Witches Tit. We then picked our packs back up, climbed up to the summit of the East Witches Tit for it's second ascent, and rappelled the east ridge of the East Tit to a tight bivy in the Tits-Ears col. This col had the last snow or ice we encountered before the summit of Devil's Thumb, so we had to leave with the weight of 8 liters of water in our packs.

On Saturday morning we again left our bivy at a leisurely hour, and made one rappel to the north side of the ridge, to gain the Elias-McMullen route on the Cat's Ears. We climbed the Elias-McMullen route to the Cat's Brow (the notch between the ears), and then tagged each of the spectacular Cat's Ears summits in single pitches from the Cat's Brow. We knew that Walsh and Ike had rappelled to the south from the Cat's Brow, and chopped their rope regaining the ridgecrest in the extremely-chossy Ears-Thumb gully. Hoping to avoid a similar fate, we decided to instead rappel the east face of the East Cat's Ear, directly into the Ears-Thumb notch. Our plan worked to avoid the chossy gully, although it was very intimidating to rappel the dead-vertical to slightly overhanging east face of the East Ear. From the Ears-Thumb notch we climbed two pitches up Devil's Thumb's West Buttress to a five-star bivy ledge.

On Sunday we finally got an earlier start, and continued up the West Buttress of The Thumb. There was one tricky roof that Mikey surmounted with a mix of free and aid climbing, but the majority of the West Buttress was moderate climbing, in the 5.6-5.9 range, on fantastic rock. I think it is a route worthy of classic status. The West Buttress had been almost climbed in 1990 by Jim Haberl, Mike Down, and Alastair Foreman, who retreated one pitch below the summit ridge in a storm. We found their rappel anchors all the way up, and their last anchor indeed looked like it had been made in haste: a sketchy-looking block, backed up with a friend.

We continued up the summit ridge, tagged the summit, and kept traversing to the descent of the southeast face. The descent, down a variation of the Beckey Route, was long and tedious (particularly because it was so melted out, and there were lots and lots of loose blocks), but we eventually made it into our camp at 10:30pm.

It was a fantastic climb, in a beautiful area. It was higher in quality than difficulty, and is certainly a traverse that I'd recommend to others. We're calling it the "Diablo Traverse," and the grade we climbed it at is I think 5.10, A2. Thanks to Jon Walsh and Andre Ike for laying the groundwork, and thanks a ton to Dieter Klose for the original inspiration and logistical help in Petersburg.

The Fitz Roy of North America: Devil's Thumb from Dieter's house.

Getting closer to Devil's Thumb on the helicopter ride in. To the left is Mt. Burkett and Burkett Needle.

Mikey on the approach to the Witches Tits.

Colin on the lower buttress of the Edwards-Millar route, on the West Witches Tit.

Mikey on a fantastic pitch of "Witches Cleavage," the Walsh-Ike variation to the Edwards-Millar route.

Mikey on the East Witches Tit.

Colin climbing to the summit of the East Witches Tit.

Mikey climbing the Elias-McMullen route on the north face of Cat's Ears Spires.

Mikey higher on the Elias-McMullen route, dealing with some slightly chossy rock.

Mikey on the north face of Cat's Ears Spires.

Colin coming up to the Cat's Brow on the Elias-McMullen route.

View to the west from the summit of the West Cat's Ear. Forest fires in BC made for some smoky skies.

Mikey on the last few meters of the West Cat's Ear.

Mikey on the East Cat's Ear, with the West Ear behind.

Mikey on the East Cat's Ear.

Mikey rappelling the very steep east face of the East Cat's Ear, with the West Buttress of Devil's Thumb sunlit above.

Mikey working up the crux roof on the West Buttress of Devil's Thumb.

Colin jugging the roof.

Mikey enjoying fantastic climbing on the West Buttress of The Thumb.

Colin high up on the West Buttress.

Colin on the summit ridge of Devil's Thumb, with Mt. Burkett and Burkett Needle behind.

We generally divided the lead blocks to our relative strengths - Mikey leading the steep, clean rock pitches, and Colin leading the more fucked-up "alpine stuff." Leading the raps through the large bergschrund on the Beckey Route was Colin's turf.

Back at our camp below the southeast face.

Mikey waiting for the helicopter ride out, as the high pressure began to slowly break down.

The west-to-east line of The Diablo Traverse.

Tahoma Ski Descent and North Rib of Slesse

2010-08-02T18:59:00.000-07:00

After Alaska I had to nurse my frostbitten toes for a couple weeks before climbing on them. Since then I have been mostly just rock climbing, at Index, Squamish and Skaha, but have made it up into the alpine a couple times - for a ski descent of Tahoma's (aka Mt. Rainier) Edmunds Headwall, and a climb of the North Rib of Slesse.

I hiked in to the northwest side of Tahoma on Bastille Day, July 14, with my brother, Booth, and our Spanish-British friend, Eduardo Blanchard Wrigglesworth. We planned to climb and ski the Edmunds Headwall, marked in red, on the right side of the Mowich Face:

We slept on the lower slopes of Ptarmigan Ridge, and crossed the Mowich Glacier in the morning on a semi-early schedule. Los hermanos Haley descansan en la pared:

Eduardo climbing up the Edmunds Headwall:

Colin, Eduardo and Booth on the north summit of Tahoma, Liberty Cap:

We waited an hour below the summit for the snow to soften a bit, and then started down the upper Mowich Face at 3:30pm. Colin on the upper Mowich Face, just before traversing skier's left to the Edmunds Headwall:

Booth on the upper Edmunds Headwall:

Despite the reputation of the Mowich Face as a serious ski descent, there was only one short section of 50 degrees, and most of the descent was about 40 degrees. It was comparable to the Northeast Face of Les Courtes in Chamonix, just with a longer approach. Booth letting loose on the Edmunds Headwall:

I spent last weekend at Mt. Slesse, one of North America's greatest peaks. Nick Elson and I climbed the Complete North Rib, a Jeff Lowe route to the right of the popular Northeast Buttress. Slesse in the morning light, with the complete North Rib marked:

Nick coming up the North Slesse Glacier, with the Nesakwatch Spires across the valley behind:

Nick coming up some slabs on the lower portion of the North Rib. The rock here is good, but quite compact, making for some moderate but runout climbing.

The rock on the lower portion of the North Rib is all good granite. Some of it is licheny and some of it is loose, because the route sees little traffic, but it is solid in general. If the route saw anywhere close to the amount of traffic on the Northeast Buttress it would be very high quality rock climbing. Colin mid-way up the North Rib:

When you arrive at the notch the upper North Rib looks really chossy, but don't be fooled - it is surprisingly solid, fun climbing. My recently-recovered toes couldn't take rock shoes anymore, so fortunately Nick was happy to take the last block up to the summit and I could follow in my approach shoes. Nick on the Upper North Rib:

The other aspect of our Slesse weekend was making a trail for the Crossover descent. The Crossover is a far superior way off of Slesse than descending to the Slesse Creek Valley, but was plagued for years by a bad bushwack at the end. So, on Saturday Nick and I, along with several other friends, spent the day making a trail from the memorial plaque to the Crossover Descent basin. A detailed route description of the Crossover Descent can be found here: http://www.jeremyfrimer.com/visitor/Crossover_Pass_Descent.pdf

Sara and Seth working on the Crossover trail:

Alaska 2010: Dracula and Cassin Simul-Solo

2010-06-27T13:47:00.000-07:00

HERE, FIRSTOFF, IS A TRIP SUMMARY:

Bjørn-Eivind Årtun and I have just come out from a 37-day trip to Denali and Mt. Foraker, which was partially funded by a Mugs Stump Award and the Norwegian Alpine Club (NTK). Here is a report of what we did.

We flew onto the Kahiltna Glacier on May 13, and immediately started up Denali’s West Buttress route to acclimatize. We soon established a basecamp at the 14,200 ft. camp on the West Buttress to stay for a while. On May 21 we attempted to climb and ski the Orient Express route, but turned around and skied from 17,500 ft. in the face of dangerous wind slabs. On May 25 we climbed to the summit of Denali via the Messner Couloir and returned to the 14,200 ft. camp in 9:15 roundtrip. On May 29 we climbed to the summit of Denali again via the West Buttress route in 8:10 roundtrip.

On the evening of June 6 we departed the 14,200 camp with light packs to attempt the Cassin Ridge, with hopes of breaking the speed record established by Mugs Stump in 1991 (he climbed the Cassin Ridge in 15 hours, and 27.5 hours roundtrip from the 14,200 ft. camp). The forecast was marginal, and our attempt was preceded by a lot of new snowfall, but we had already waited too long for a good weather window. Rather than descend all of the lower West Rib route, we opted to approach via a variation to the West Rib, the “Seattle ‘72 Ramp,” established in 1972 by Alex Bertulis, Jim Wickwire, Robert Shaller, Tom Stewart, Charlie Raymond and Leif-Norman Patterson. This approach worked excellently, and we were soon melting water in the bergschrund at the base of the Japanese Couloir.
We crossed the bergshrund at 22:40 and began climbing up the Japanese Couloir. Above Cassin Ledge we made a route-finding error and accidently climbed a mixed chimney that was more difficult than necessary. While climbing the first rock band the weather took a turn for the worse, and the mostly cloudy skies turned completely cloudy and started snowing. We had decent snow conditions until the top of the third rock band, at 17,000 ft. (although much more hard ice on the icefields than most years), but then began to wallow considerably in deep, fresh snow. We had made excellent time up to 17,000 ft. (about 11 hours) and were confident that we would break the speed record, but that hope began to disintegrate as we worked through snow sometimes waist-deep on the left (west) side of the ridge. The snow worsened closer to the summit ridge, and the final 1,000 ft. to the summit took us over three hours. We finally reached the summit at 15:43 for a time of 17 hours from the base. We took our time down the West Buttress route, and when we arrived back at the 14,200 ft. camp 28 hours had elapsed. We brought a 20 meter rope for the approach, but simul-soloed all of the route.

After our climb of the Cassin we packed up our camp at 14,200 ft. on the West Buttress and descended down to Kahiltna basecamp. Ever since our first week on the glacier we had not experienced consecutive days with good weather, and still the forecast was not optimistic, so it seemed unlikely that we would attempt the main objective of our expedition: a new route on the Southeast Face of Mt. Foraker. After a few days in basecamp the weather forecast called for one day of high pressure, and we thought we might as well pack our backpacks and ski over to the base of the face to check it out. We skied to the base of the face in a whiteout, and never even once that day were able to see the wall that we hoped to climb. We set up our tent in dumping snow, and assumed that in the morning we would simply ski back to basecamp. However, we awoke at 4:00 am the next morning (June 13) to clear skis, and made a hurried decision to launch.
We skied from our campsite up the glacier to the base of the face, and then cached our skis below a protected rock buttress at 6,800 ft. The lower portion of the face (before we branched off of the previous route, False Dawn) is serac-threatened, and so as soon as we left our skis, at 6:00 am, we set off simul-soloing as fast as we possibly could. We raced up a narrow snow couloir to the left of the main serac (but still threatened by a serac on the French Ridge) with steps up to AI3, and then made a right-ward traverse to above the main serac and out of danger. We spent a total of two hours and ten minutes in what I consider dangerous terrain, although we never saw anything come down from these seracs.
Above the dangerous terrain we climbed up a hanging glacier, and then departed False Dawn, climbing up to the base of the large diamond-shaped wall that we hoped to climb. At the base of the wall we stopped to rest, eat, melt snow and bust out the ropes. The wall itself is about 3,000 ft. tall, and comprised of first a large left-trending ramp system, and then a large right trending ramp system. We climbed a lot of ice runnels, and some tricky mixed bits. The rock was mostly good granite, but the technical crux came on a section of crumbly M6R.
At the top of the rock wall we had hoped to brew up, but there was still not a single ledge big enough to chop a butt-seat, so we kept climbing through the night up interminable 60-degree ice slopes to the junction with the French Ridge. Climbing through the night, combined with severe dehydration and wet socks, caused me to develop frostbite on my big toes.
At the junction with the French Ridge we stopped to rest and melt snow in the dawn light. Eventually we got on our way again, and slowly began the long plod traversing under the south summit and on towards the true summit, quite exhausted. We finally reached the true summit at 13:00, 31 hours after leaving our skis. The skies were clouding up however, and we scurried off almost immediately, heading down the Northeast Ridge.
We quickly descended 5,000 ft. down the Northeast Ridge, and then stopped in a convenient crevasse to melt snow out of the wind. We had planned to continue descending via the Sultana Ridge variation, but when we exited the crevasse we were greeted with complete whiteout and 50 mile-per-hour winds. After a brief attempt along the ridge we returned to the protected crevasse. A little while later we tried to start out again, but again realized we had no chance to continue along the Sultana Ridge in the blizzard.
Back in the crevasse we discussed our options. We had half a canister of isobutane left, a handful of energy bars, no sleeping bags, and no tent or sleeping pads - staying long was out of the question. We spent the night sitting in the crevasse shivering hoping for the weather to improve. When in the morning it was just as bad we decided our only reasonable option was to descend via the original Northeast Ridge route, established in 1966 by a Japanese team, as it would be much less exposed to the wind than the Sultana Ridge. We had no information about it, and I don’t think it has been ascended or descended in at least a decade, although probably two or three.
Slowly we fought our way down the 1966 route. Low down the original route traverses off the rib into an extremely broken icefall, underneath seracs. We decided it would be safer to stay on the rib, and began rappelling directly down the unclimbed rock buttress instead. It was sometimes quite tricky, and included a couple overhanging rappels, but finally we made it down to the glacier. Once far enough away from the face that we felt relatively safe from avalanches, we stopped to melt snow once more, and then began the long post-holing session back to Kahiltna basecamp. When we finally reached basecamp we had been awake for about 71 hours, and I was hallucinating a lot. The toes that I had frostbitten during the ascent had re-warmed during the descent, and had been excruciatingly painful for most of the descent and hike back to basecamp.
My frostbite looks as though it will heal up just fine (although I might not manage tight rock shoes for a bit!), but in basecamp I could not yet put on boots, and Bjørn-Eivind retrieved our camping gear and skis from the base of the route with the help of our friend, Chris, from Colorado. The whole climb and descent felt massive, and made the Cassin feel like a small, non-commiting route by comparison. We named our route Dracula, and the numbers are: 10,400 ft., M6R, AI4+, A0. June 13-15, 2010.

AND NOW I SHALL ELABORATE UPON THE STORY WITH PHOTOS:

The view from the flight into Kahiltna basecamp, with our intended wall on Foraker in the center of the photo. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

Our first acclimatization venture to the 17,000ft. camp was via the Rescue Gully. Colin perched on some rocks next to the 17,00ft. camp with Foraker behind. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

Hanging out at the 14,200ft. camp in the igloo of the "Leningrad Cowboys." From left to right is Stephen, Justus, Bjørn-Eivind, Colin and Sean. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

Bjørn-Eivind kicking steps up the Orient Express. We went to approximately 17,500ft. but then encountered scary windslab and skied back to camp from there. Photo by Colin.

We passed much of our acclimatization time skiing laps in the basin above the 14,200ft. camp. Colin catching a bit of air. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

Bjørn-Eivind high in the Messner Couloir on our first visit of the expedition to Denali's summit. Photo by Colin.

Colin on the summit of Denali after our climb of the Messner Couloir. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

Our next trip to the summit was a few days later, via the standard West Buttress. Bjørn-Eivind on the summit for our second time. Photo by Colin.

Hanging out at the 14,200ft. camp with our Dutch friends, Wouter Van Dijk and Jeroen Vels. They educated us on Dutch culture, particularly the word "swaffelen." "Swaffelen" was apparently the official word of the year in Holland in 2009. I won't divulge it's meaning here... crazy Dutch guys! Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

When we went for the Cassin there had been about two meters of snowfall since the most recent ascent of the route (two weeks earlier), and the forecast called for one day of "partly cloudy" between other days of worse weather. Not exactly an ideal scenario, but we were tired of waiting! Bjørn-Eivind and Colin about to depart the 14,200ft. camp. Photo by Jeroen Vels.

Bjørn-Eivind jumping over a small 'schrund while desending the lower West Rib, shortly before we branched off on the Seattle '72 Ramp. Photo by Colin.

Two Belgian friends, Sam Van Brempt and Joris Van Reeth, camped in the 'schrund beneath the Japanese Couloir (the start of the Cassin). Sam and Joris had descended the Seattle '72 ramp half a day before us, so even if we were to have no previous tracks on route it was nice to have tracks on the approach to the base of the Cassin. We hung out with Sam and Joris for a couple hours while we were having dinner and melting water for the route, and then said goodbye before crossing the 'schrund. Tragically, Joris was killed in the Japanese Couloir the following morning, after taking a large fall and suffering serious trauma. RIP Joris. Photo by Colin.

Bjørn-Eivind and myself melting water in the 'schrund below the Japanese Couloir. Photo by Colin.

We had originally planned to attempt Foraker before the Cassin and only changed plans to save time after we had waited through so much bad weather. Thus, we weren't equipped for the Cassin quite as we had planned, and most significantly, our helmets were down in Kahiltna basecamp. We took a lot of care throughout the route not to knock rocks or ice on each other. Bjørn-Eivind in the Japanese Couloir. Photo by Colin.

Colin just past the most difficult section of the Japanese Couloir. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

Bjørn-Eivind arriving at the ridgecrest at the top of the Japanese Couloir. Photo by Colin.

Bjørn-Eivind climbing through the Cassin's crux rock band, just above the Japanese Couloir. We realized after the climb that we accidently climbed this more-difficult chimney unnecessarily, and the correct gully was further to the right. Photo by Colin.

Bjørn-Eivind in the first rock band. Photo by Colin.

Bjørn-Eivind in the second rock band. Photo by Colin.

Colin in the second rock band. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

Bjørn-Eivind in the second rock band. Photo by Colin.

Bjørn-Eivind in the second rock band. Photo by Colin.

Bjørn-Eivind almost to the top of the second rock band. Photo by Colin.

A tired Bjørn-Eivind enduring the weather a little ways above 17,000ft. Photo by Colin.

Colin getting frosty on the upper Cassin. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

The last 1,000ft. to the summit ridge took us over three hours, due to deep snow and our fatigue, but Bjørn-Eivind did a great job with the majority of the trail-breaking on this section. Colin following. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

Colin on the summit of Denali for our third time of the trip, a bit more tired this time! Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

After going to sleep amidst dumping snow we had assumed our last chance to try Foraker was gone, but we awoke surprisingly to clear skies. Colin at our camp below the face the morning that we started climbing. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

Bjørn-Eivind about to cross the bergschrund of False Dawn, going as fast as possible in the "danger zone." Photo by Colin.

Bjørn-Eivind on the lower part of False Dawn, almost out of the dangerous terrain. Photo by Colin.

Bjørn-Eivind past the serac danger and almost to the hanging glacier on False Dawn. Photo by Colin.

Bjørn-Eivind departing False Dawn, and kicking steps up to the diamond-shaped rock wall. Photo by Colin.

Colin starting up the first, left-trending ramp. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

Bjørn-Eivind following the first pitch of the left-trending ramp. Photo by Colin.

Bjørn-Eivind's view up the first of the route's two crux pitches. This mixed dihedral was quite steep, but with excellent rock and protection. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

Bjørn-Eivind arriving at the top of a pitch of rotten ice. Photo by Colin.

Bjørn-Eivind connecting the top of the left-trending ramp with the right-trending ramp above. Photo by Colin.

Bjørn-Eivind on the right-trending ramp. Photo by Colin.

Bjørn-Eivind on the right-trending ramp. Photo by Colin.

Colin on a very precarious cornice near the top of the right-trending ramp. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

Bjørn-Eivind on the route's second crux pitch: not as steep, but with rotten rock and bad protection. Photo by Colin.

Colin following the second crux. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

Colin almost to the top of the rock wall. We really wanted to brew up at this point, but couldn't find anywhere to do so. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

Bjørn-Eivind on the never-ending 60-degree ice slopes above the rock wall. We really wanted to brew up at this point. Photo by Colin.

Colin almost to the top of the never-ending 60-degree ice slopes, in the first rays of the sun. Now we really, really wanted to brew up. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

Colin looking a wee bit tired upon joining the upper French Ridge. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

Bjørn-Eivind was a wee bit tired as well... Photo by Colin.

Bjørn-Eivind on the upper French Ridge, with Mt. Hunter behind. Photo by Colin.

The traverse from the south summit to the main summit of Foraker was a long ordeal in our utterly depleted state. Like on the Cassin, Bjørn-Eivind did a great job with the majority of the trail breaking on this last section. Two worn-out climbers on the summit, anxiously watching clouds building all around us. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

Our crevasse shiver-bivy at 12,000ft. on the Northeast Ridge, where we spent a miserable night hoping for the blizzard to abate. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

Colin back-tracking while navigating a route through humongous crevasses on the stormy descent down the Japanese '66 route. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

Colin pulling the rappel ropes above the last rappel. Photo by Bjørn-Eivind.

Bjørn-Eivind on the last rappel, which was almost 50 meters of overhanging rotten rock, into the biggest moat we've ever seen (we had to climb a pitch of steep ice to get out of it). Photo by Colin.

The two of us arriving in Kahiltna Basecamp at 2am, hallucinating quite a lot. The long, post-holing walk across the Kahiltna Glacier was excruciating for my frostbitten toes, so I opted to walk the last section, up Heartbreak Hill, in just my boot liners. Photo by Jacob Schmitz.

The view of the wall from our campsite, the morning that we started up the route. Dracula is marked in blue. Photo by Colin.

The entire Southeast Face of Foraker, showing all established routes.

GREEN: Southeast Ridge (bottom not shown), 1963, 10,400 ft.
RED: French Ridge, 1976, 10,800 ft.
YELLOW: Infinite Spur (bottom not shown), 1977, 9,000 ft.
PINK: False Dawn, 1990, 10,400 ft.
ORANGE: Viper Ridge, 1991, 6,000 ft. (climbed only to junction with SE Ridge)
BLUE: Dracula, 2010, 10,400 ft.

MT. HUNTER PERSPECTIVE

For those who have cried success at the top of the buttress on the Bibler-Klewin route on Mt. Hunter, this photo which I took from Foraker can provide a bit of perspective. The red dot shows Mugs Stump's high point, the green dot shows the top of the buttress and the blue dot shows the summit of Mt. Hunter - the top of the route.

CASSIN APPROACH BETA VIA THE SEATTLE '72 RAMP

I have now tried all three of the popular approach routes to the Southwest Face of Denali (1. Hike/ski up the Northeast Fork of the Kahiltna. 2. Downclimb the lower West Rib. 3. Downclimb the Seattle '72 Ramp), and I am now quite convinced that the Seattle '72 Ramp is the best route to take. There are still advantages of approaching via the Northeast Fork, but I think there is no good reason to descend the lower West Rib. When I down-climbed the lower West Rib it took most of a day. The Seattle '72 Ramp, by comparison, took Bjørn-Eivind and I only three hours and ten minutes from the 14,200ft. camp to the bergschrund below the Japanese Couloir. We had light packs and were well acclimatized, but nonetheless I think any party would find it a much faster approach than the lower West Rib. We found the approach via the Seattle '72 Ramp to be fairly straightforward. It required a bit of tricky crevasse navigation, and we made one 10 meter rappel, but that was it.

For a long time the Seattle '72 Ramp has had a reputation of high serac hazard, but it is only the last, lowest portion, and all three approach options are subject to the same seracs at that point anyways. Of course you should make your own choices about whether or not you think it is dangerous, but it is certainly the route I will take if I approach the Southwest Face again.

I took this photo while we were climbing the Japanese Couloir. It shows the lower portion of the Seattle '72 ramp, with the route we took in red and potential alternate routes in green.

This photo, that I pulled off the internet, shows the upper portion of the Seattle '72 Ramp, with our approximate route marked in red. The green dot shows a steep rock wall which is a useful landmark while descending.

Mark Westman took this photo of the Seattle '72 ramp from the Denali Diamond in June 2007. Just for another perspective on the ramp.

Supercouloir Solo

2010-05-02T05:24:00.000-07:00

Last Wednesday afternoon I took a late cabin up the Aiguille du Midi telepherique for an attempt on Supercouloir the following day (April 27). Supercouloir is an 800 meter ice gully route on the east face of Mont Blanc du Tacul. The direct start to Supercouloir was not formed, so I took rock shoes, with a plan to do the Gervasutti Pillar start.

I left the top of the Aiguille du Midi at 5am Thursday morning, and walked down the Vallee Blanche to below Tacul's east face. After some shenanigans with the bergshrund and looking for the best place to get on the rock, I finally started climbing up the Gervasutti Pillar. Unfortunately it had snowed a few centimeters overnight, and most of the holds had snow to brush off, which didn't start melting until I was almost done with the rock climbing. And regardless of the snow, the climbing on the Gervasutti Pillar start was harder than I expected, so I ended up using at least some sort of self-belay on 75% of it, and also using up much more time than I had expected.

Looking down from a few pitches up the Gervasutti Pillar start:

I started the ice gullies in Supercouloir proper later than I would have liked, but fortunately the route was going into the shade just as the air temperature was beginning to rise. I also self-belayed the first pitch of the gullies as it was a bit thin and mixed. Looking down from a couple pitches up the gullies:

Looking up the steepest pitch of the gullies, which has a couple vertical steps:

Although known as the "crux" pitch of the route, the steep pitch felt much easier than the Gervasutti Pillar start or the first, mixed pitch of the gullies, and I felt comfortable free-soloing here:

Looking real funny (from the altitude perhaps?) above the steep pitch:

Looking down from where Supercouloir joins the upper Gervasutti Pillar. The Grand Capucin and Tour Ronde look pretty small from up here!

From the summit of Mont Blanc du Tacul I raced down the standard route as fast as I could and back up to the top of the Aiguille du Midi, just barely catching the last cabin down for the day. Mont Blanc from the summit of Mont Blanc du Tacul:

When I was planning this solo my friend Korra teased me for planning it so cautiously, saying "You've already soloed the other Supercouloir [on Fitz Roy], so I think it will be no problem!" But the difference between soloing a route you have done previously and soloing a route on-sight is very big. Having never been on it before, soloing the Supercouloir on Mont Blanc du Tacul felt fairly difficult and serious. Of course nothing like Fitz Roy, but perhaps an equivalent experience to my solos of Aguja Poincenot and Aguja Mermoz (which are more serious routes overall, but that I had climbed previously before soloing them).

There were several warm, sunny days before and after my day on Mont Blanc du Tacul, and I did some mellow alpine rock climbing: The Contamine Route on Pointe Lachenal with Andy Houseman, the Rebuffat Route on the south face of the Aiguille du Midi with Miles Smart, and the route, "Glacier Police," on Pointe Adolphe Rey with Mike Pennings. I only brought a camera on Pointe Lachenal, but here is Andy on the Contamine Route:

And a french party climbing a 7A face route to the left of the Contamine:

And for reference, here is a nice photo (not mine), which shows Supercouloir, Pointe Lachenal, and Pointe Adolphe Rey (but not the South Face of the Aiguille du Midi):

Back in Chamonix

2010-04-23T03:53:00.000-07:00

After Patagonia I was home in the Cascades for a whopping ten days, and then took off for my vernal pilgrimage to Chamonix, France. Just as Yosemite is the ultimate playground for rock climbing, Chamonix is the ultimate playground for alpine climbing and ski mountaineering. And just as Yosemite is the perfect place to get in shape before Patagonia, Chamonix is the perfect place to get in shape before Alaska (where I am going in May with Bjørn-Eivind Årtun).

My time thus far in Chamonix has been super busy, with lots of days up in the alpine, and many "rest days" spent sportclimbing or doing a lap on the Arete des Cosmiques to stay acclimatized. I haven't yet taken time to update my blog, so today I will attempt to post reports from several of the more noteworthy days.

My first couple weeks were spent mostly skiing, as there was lots of new snowfall, and I had some catch-up to do, having missed almost all of the ski season in the Patagonian summer. On one day of skiing off the Aiguille du Midi I shot this helmet cam video: http://vimeo.com/11049840

APRIL 10, LES DOITES, LA GINAT, LES COURTES

Aside from a couple laps on the Arete des Cosmiques, my first day alpine climbing was the Ginat Route on Les Doites with Norwegian friend, Nils Nielsen. I met Nils earlier this winter in Patagonia after he had climbed the Supercanaleta on Fitz Roy. We managed the climb itself in 5:30, but had a long day nonetheless, as we started from first bin at Grands Montets and opted to traverse over the summit of Les Courtes for our descent route.

The North Face of Les Doites, showing the route we climbed (Ginat with Messner start):

Colin approaching the base of the North Face of Les Doites. Photo by Nils.

Colin on the central icefield. Photo by Nils.

Colin near the top of the central icefield. The first technical pitches, where we chose to rope up, are visible just above. Photo by Nils.

Nils leading the first technical pitch.

Colin leading up to and through the easy mixed ramp. Photo by Nils.

Nils leading up to and through a slabby mixed bit, which I thought is currently the crux of the route (although only M5).

Colin coming up moderate ice. Photo by Nils.

Colin starting up the last technical pitch, with is the other crux of the route, with about ten meters of M5ish climbing. Photo by Nils.

Nils arriving at the belay after the last technical pitch. I had soloed La Ginat last year in fatter conditions, but was glad this time to have a partner and rope.

Colin on one of four 30m rappels we made down the South Couloir of the Breche des Doites. Like 97% of "ascents" of the Ginat, we went merely to the Breche des Doites, and not the summit of Les Doites, so I think it must technically be considered an attempt. Photo by Nils.

Colin down-climbing just above the bergschrund. Photo by Nils.

From the South Couloir of the Breche des Doites, it is necessary to climb back up a long ways before starting the traverse to Les Courtes. The enveloping white-out caused us to take many wrong paths before we finally found the West Ridge of Les Courtes. Colin climbing up the icy West Ridge. Photo by Nils.

Colin on the upper West Ridge of Les Courtes, with Les Doites behind. Photo by Nils.

Almost at the summit of Les Courtes, Colin getting very tired due to poor acclimatization on the second summit of the day. We then down-climbed the Northeast Face of Les Courtes to return to our skis in the Argentiere Basin and ski down to the valley floor. Photo by Nils.

APRIL 13, TOUR RONDE, GERVASUTTI COULOIR

I had never climbed the Tour Ronde, so a few days after the Ginat I went to ski the Gervasutti Couloir with Nils and Marion, who is a bad-ass chick in the Groupe Militaire de Haute Montagne (the French high-mountain military - a group of climbers who get paid to go climbing and skiing in the Mont Blanc Massif all year!).

Marion breaking trail up to the Tour Ronde. The North Face is visible on the left, and the Gervasutti Couloir is hidden between buttresses on the right. Photo by Nils.

Marion and Colin climbing in the upper part of the couloir. Photo by Nils.

Marion and Colin reaching the top of the couloir. The slope to the right of the ridge crest is the top of the North Face. Photo by Nils.

Marion and Colin arriving at the top of the Tour Ronde, with Mont Blanc behind. Photo by Nils.

Colin dropping in to the top of the Gervasutti Couloir. Photo by Nils.

Colin picking through rocks in the upper couloir. Photo by Nils.

APRIL 14, LES COURTES, NORTHEAST FACE

Feeling the steep-skiing buzz, Nils and I headed the next day to the Northeast Face of Les Courtes, along with friends Jonno Jacobs and Magnus Kastengren.

Jonno, Magnus and Nils de-skinning and donning crampons just above the bergshrund.

Nils on the lower part of the Northeast Face.

Jonno and Colin nearing the top of the Northeast Face. Photo by Nils.

Magnus on the summit ridge of Les Courtes. Jonno is visible just below at the top of the Northeast Face, which drops down to the left.

Colin on the summit ridge of Les Courtes, with Mont Dolent and Aiguille de Triolet visible behind. Photo by Nils.

Colin and Magnus higher on the summit ridge, with Les Grandes Jorasses behind. Photo by Nils.

Colin, Magnus and Nils on the summit of Les Courtes.

Colin on the first few turns down the Northeast Face. The snow was ideal for steep skiing - soft but well-bonded. Photo by Nils.

After we had only skied a few turns down the face, Magnus traversed to skier's right to what looked like nice snow. He unexpectedly hit a big patch of blue ice, obscured by just a few inches of powder, and started sliding. Almost in disbelief, Nils and I watched as Magnus several times almost gained control on small bits of snow, but then hit more ice and kept sliding, eventually hitting a rock band and tumbling over it. After the rock band Magnus immediately starting tumbling down the 45 to 50 degree face, and in well less than a minute fell 700 vertical meters, to past the bergshrund. Jonno immediately called for a helicopter rescue, and I started skiing down as fast as I safely could. I arrived to Magnus just a few minutes before the helicopter, and, astonishingly, he was not only conscious but standing.

Magnus and Colin standing below the bergsrund, as a PGHM rescuer is lowered to us. Photo by Nils.

The helicopter coming back a second time to bring a PGHM medic:

Miraculously, Magnus seemed to have no serious injuries, but after such a long fall he was helicoptered straight to the hospital in Sallanches in case of internal injuries. Nils, Jonno and I skied down to the valley with Magnus's equipment. In the end, he came away from a 700m fall with a swollen elbow! I had already felt that extreme skiing was much more dangerous than climbing, and although the outcome of the incident was benign it was an eye-opener to me of how serious even a "via normale" of extreme skiing can be.

APRIL 17, ARGENTIERE TRILOGY

Since part of my reason to come to Chamonix was to get fit for Alaska, I wanted to do a big, endurance day, and fortunately Nils was game for the idea - to climb Aiguille Verte, Les Doites and Les Courtes in one day. We rode the last bin up to the top of the Grands Montets on the 16th so that we could sleep in the telepherique station and get an early start in the morning.

Colin holding half the rack at the top of the Grands Montets (we planned to simul-solo everything). Behind are some of the many other climbers who slept at the top of the Grands Montets, who made lots of noise departing at every possible hour, and ensured that I got only one hour of sleep before we finally departed at 4:50am! Photo by Nils.

Our first objective was the Aiguille Verte, which we climbed and descended via the Couturier Couloir.

Nils in the early-morning light half-way up the Couturier.

Colin higher up in the Couturier. Photo by Nils.

Colin at the very top of the Couturier Couloir, about to hit the summit ridge, with the Grande Rocheuse behind. Photo by Nils.

Nils on the summit ridge of the Aiguille Verte with some strong morning wind.

On the summit of the Aiguille Verte, with Les Grandes Jorasses behind. Photo by Nils.

We quickly downclimbed the Couturier, with one 30m rappel, and were back at our skis just as the first parties were arriving from the first telepherique bin. We skied down to the North Face of Les Doites, for our next objective, the Lagarde Couloir.

Colin climbing the first of the ice pitches in the lower portion of the Lagarde Couloir. We tried to stay on the side of the gully, as a lot of spindrift was pouring down. Photo by Nils

I had climbed the Lagarde Couloir once before, in 2006 with my friend Tim Matsui, so it was a bit nostalgic to be back. Nils climbing one of the mixed steps near the top of the couoir.

Nils on the summit ridge of Les Doites, with Mont Blanc behind.

This time on the true summit of Les Doites.

We descended off the south face of Les Doites, and began the traverse over to the West Ridge of Les Courtes. Colin nearing Les Courtes. Photo by Nils.

On the summit of Les Courtes for our third time in a week! Photo by Nils.

We had originally hoped to finish our day by climbing the Swiss Route on Les Courtes, so as to do three north faces in a day, but after descending the Northeast Face of Les Courtes quite tired, our motivation to head straight back up the same mountain was too low. We were happy nonetheless to have done three summits and only two north faces. Colin starting the ski out, and above, from left to right, are Les Courtes, Les Doites, and Aiguille Verte. Photo by Nils.

APRIL 19, AIGUILLE VERTE, DESCENT OF THE "Y COULOIR" AND BAD ACCIDENT

After our big endurance day, Nils took off to guide the Haute Route, and my friend Andreas Fransson approached me with some more extreme skiing ideas. I was still a bit concerned about steep skiing after Magnus's accident, but Andreas is such a good partner that I was quickly convinced on the objectives. Last year I had accompanied Andreas in putting the first tracks of the year down the North Face of the Aiguille du Midi and the North Face of the Col du Plan. Andreas is a far, far better skier than I am (in fact he is almost certainly the best extreme skier in Chamonix, and perhaps the world), but I make an OK partner for him because of my climbing skills and because I am quite comfortable on steep, snowy terrain.

With only one rest day after my trilogy with Nils, Andreas and I headed up to ski the left branch "Y Couloir" on Aiguille Verte, as a "warm-up" for a more challenging objective later in the week. We caught the first bin up the Grands Montets, and made good time up the Couturier Couloir. Andreas was particularly fit and fast, and was waiting on the summit for fifteen minutes before I topped out. We made our various equipment adjustments, and skied off the summit at about 1pm. As we had done during our ski days together the year before, Andreas was the lead the whole descent.

The Y Couloir was steep and difficult from the start, especially because the snow was challenging for steep skiing (re-frozen crust). We made two rappels over rock bands in the upper couloir, and a fair bit of side-stepping as well. Andreas had to wait for me a fair amount, but I couldn't safely ski such steep terrain any faster. Even while things were going smoothly in this section I knew that afterwards I needed to tell Andreas he would need to find another partner for the main objective later in the week - I simply felt that the danger involved in this sort of skiing was greater than I wanted to accept. After the junction with the right branch of the couloir we were rewarded with some pure skiing - still steep and difficult, but a nice, long section without rappels or sidestepping.

About 300 meters above the glacier the main couloir cliffs out, so just above the cliffs we traversed out of the gully to skier's left, Andreas going first as usual. It was quite warm, and just as I finishing the traverse out to skier's left of the gully, a large wet-slide avalanche came roaring down the gully. I scrambled to press myself as far against the left side of the gully as possible, and dug my whippets into the slope. The avalanche pulled hard on my backpack and the tails of my skis, and I was only just barely able to keep from being swept off the cliffs to my death. As soon as the avalanche subsided I quickly finished the traverse out of the gully and started cursing. I think it was tied with one experience when I was seventeen as the closest I've ever come to death, and needless to say, I was not happy about it.

Andreas had been around the corner and hadn't seen quite how close of a call I had had, but knew I had not missed the center of the avalanche by much time. We both knew it was dangerous, and just wanted to get down at that point. Above the next gully further to skier's left we set up a rappel on a rock horn, and rappelled into the gully. We traversed across to the skier's left side of the gully as fast as possible, where we were safe from any slides coming down.

From our safe spot on the skier's left side of the gully we tried to make a rappel anchor. We hoped to make an anchor as far to the side as possible, to avoid rappelling into the gully itself, but couldn't find any good placements. Eventually, I equalized two knifeblade pitons a couple meters further in, and we set up the rappel ropes. Andreas set off on rappel first, and kept his skis on. He had just rappelled about twenty meters down, into the gully and beyond where I could see, when a large wetslide avalanche came roaring down the gully. I felt the rappel ropes come very tight for a few moments, and then they went slack, so I knew almost certainly that Andreas had been swept off rappel. As the roar from the avalanche subsided I yelled to Andreas, but heared no reply. I immediately called the PGHM and asked for a helicopter rescue, and then began to take my skis off and put crampons on. From my position I could not see down the gully or the glacier below. I kept yelling Andreas's name periodically, and was extremely relieved to finally hear a reply. I couldn't understand what he said (it might have even been in Swedish), but I yelled back that a helicopter was on it's way.

Once I had my skis on my backpack and my crampons on my feet, I began the same rappel, but traversed hard to skier's left to stay on a rock buttress instead of in the gully, as avalanches were still periodically pouring down. In the meantime I heard the helicopter flying into the amphitheater to pick up Andreas. Andreas had had all of the rock protection, so as I rappelled down the buttress I looked in vain for a horn of rock to sling. I couldn't find any horns to sling, so I eventually had to stop mid-rappel on a ledge about sixty meters down the buttress (we had seventy meters of rappel rope). I had two ice screws on my harness, and there was ice in the gully, but avalanches were still periodically coming down, so it was out of the question to go into the gully. From my stance mid-rappel I could at least now see down to the glacier, however, and could see the PGHM recuers putting Andreas into an orange stretcher. In total he had fallen about 200 vertical meters, half of it down an icy gully with small cliff bands. I feared the worst, and wanted to yell down to ask about Andreas's condition, but figured that I shouldn't distract them at all.

I was periodically in touch via cellphone to the rescue dispatcher, and as the helicopter was finally taking off with Andreas he told me they would soon come back to get me. By this time it had gotten quite cloudy and no avalanches had come down the gully for about fifteen minutes, so I decided I could finally finish my descent. From my traversing rappel I swung into the icy gully (which was quite painfull on my knees), immediately placed an ice screw, and rappelled another sixty meters down out of the gully. I put my skis back on and skied down over the bergshrund to the glacier. I saw one of Andreas's skis and a few other items strewn about, and thought about collecting them, but then I immediately heard the helicopter coming back up the glacier to pick me up. When a rescuer was lowered on the long-line I had to ask, "Il vit?," and was immensely relieved to hear, "Pas de soucis, il vit." The helicopter picked me up and flew me down to Flegere (I was very impressed at how professsional and well-trained the PGHM rescue were), where I started calling some friends to arrange to go to the hospital in Sallanches.

Andreas is now in the hospital in Grenoble, where he is recovering from a broken neck (second vertabrae), broken pelvis, and a couple broken ribs. There fortunately does not seem to be any nerve damage, but it will for sure be a long recovery period. Andreas is fortunately someone who generally has an inspirationally positive attitude, and hopefully that will aid him through the recovery process.

I have of course been playing though my head possible scenarios of how we could have avoided the accident. I don't think we made any "wrong" choices, as of course everything is more clear and obvious after the fact, but these are some things I have thought of simply to learn from the experience:

-Our first potential way to avoid the accident was of course to not ski the Y Couloir in the first place. We knew it was southwest-facing and would therefore receive strong afternoon sun, but we didn't anticipate quite such warm temperatures that day.

-After my close call with the first avalanche, we could have waited on the rib between the two gullies until the face began to re-freeze. This could have taken several hours, and would have almost certainly meant descending to the valley by dark, but would have avoided the accident.

-From our safe stance at the rappel anchor, Andreas would have been OK if he had made a traversing rappel on the buttress to skier's left (as I did after the accident). However, he would have had to switch from skis to crampons to make such a traversing rappel, and from our stance we expected just a quick rappel through the gully and then more skiing below.

-Andreas might have avoided the fall if there were knots in the end of the rappel ropes. However, it might have been even worse for him to be stuck on the rappel ropes in the full force of the avalanche than to be ripped off the rappel ropes with the avalanche. Additionally, if there were knots in the ends of the rappel ropes the rappel anchor (two knifeblade pitons) might have been pulled out, and then we would have both taken the 200m fall (as I was clipped to the rappel anchor), and perhaps no one would have been able to call for a rescue.

Needless to say, the whole experience was very traumatic, and the accident has serious consequences for Andreas. I'm not sure if I will be interested any more in such serious extreme skiing. I am, however, extremely happy that Andreas is alive, and hoping for a good recovery.

We both wore helmet-cameras during the descent. My battery died just before the accident, and after my first close call I just wanted to get down so I didn't give a damn about replacing the battery. Andreas's helmet-cam was of course ripped off during the fall (and his helmet has a bunch of very big dents in it). This photo of the Charpoua side Aiguille Verte at least gives some perspective to the story. The blue dot is where I was almost swept off by the first avalanche, the green dot is where Andreas was swept off rappel, and the yellow dot is where Andreas landed after the fall.

Shuksan North Face Descent

2010-03-23T06:28:00.001-07:00

Last Friday my brother, Booth, and I went and skied the North Face of Mt. Shuksan after skinning up the White Salmon Glacier. Conditions were great, with plenty of well-bonded powder and only a few small windslabs right over the lee side of ridges.

The snowpack this winter in The Cascades is average or above average above 5,000 ft., but drastically below average below 5,000 ft., where, unfortunately, some of our approach route went. Classic sub-alpinism:

Mt. Baker, with Shuksan Arm in the foreground:

Booth breaking trail above Winnie's Slide:

The summit pyramid is looking rather Patagonian at the moment:

Booth traversing across the upper Hanging Glacier to access the top of the North Face:

I took my helmet cam skiing for the first time, and made a little video of the descent:
http://www.vimeo.com/10376619

Fin de la Temporada - Care Bear Traverse and Mermoz Solo

2010-03-06T07:01:00.000-08:00

The weather here in El Chalten remained poor for all of January and most of February, with only the occasional one-day mediocre window. Fortunately, unlike an expedition to Alaska or the Himalaya, the time spent waiting in Patagonia is quite enjoyable - you can live indoors, eat fresh fruit and vegetables, and stay in shape with excellent hiking, sport climbing and bouldering around town. The weather in the alpine was so bad for so long that I even managed to climb my first 7C+ (5.13a) redpoint, and my first V8!

Finally, in late February, something changed in the weather patterns, and for the past couple weeks we have been getting several two to four day weather windows, divided by only minor periods of storm. Unfortunately, after such a long period of bad weather, the peaks were more rimed up than I have ever seen before, and conditions for rock climbing were extremely bad. For this reason Rolo and I passed up several decent weather days waiting for conditions to improve. During the first properly good weather window the most successful climbs were several ascents of Supercanaleta, which is climbable in worse conditions than most routes as it is usually climbed without rock shoes. During this window Rolo and I attempted Aguja Kakito. We were beaten back by the iced-up cracks, but nonetheless had a good day out, with nice photo opportunities!

Rolo following a pendulum on Aguja Kakito, with the Torres and Aguja Desmochada behind:

Rolo following a traversing pitch, with Aguja Desmochada behind:

High on Aguja Kakito, with the Glaciar Piedras Blancas below:

Bow down:

High on Aguja Kakito, with Mermoz and Guillaumet behind:

An evening reflection on Laguna Capri on a rest day afterwards:

During the next, better weather window, Rolo and I made the fourth ascent of the "Care Bear Traverse" (a ridge traverse of Aguja Guillaumet, Aguja Mermoz, and Fitz Roy, established in 2008 by Freddie Wilkinson and Dana Drummond). We had already made the second ascent of this traverse last year, and this year we had hoped to climb something more, but the remaining icy conditions for rock climbing made even just another "lap" on this traverse a tiring endeavor.

Myself and Rolo about to start the Brenner Ridge on Aguja Guillaumet:

Rolo battling snowy conditions on the ridge between Guillaumet and Mermoz:

Rolo on rappel and more snowy conditions between Mermoz and Fitz Roy:

On the ridge between Mermoz and Fitz Roy, with the northern aspects of Fitz Roy behind:

Rolo following a pitch high on Fitz Roy's North Pillar in the evening, with Mermoz below:

Sunset over the icecap from a bivy on the North Pillar:

Rolo following the last rock pitch on the Casarotto route. Note how rimed up the top of the North Pillar is below, even after several sunny days (melting seems to be much slower than in December, when the sun is stronger):

Rolo nearing the summit of Fitz Roy with the Torres and the icecap behind. Our third time summiting Fitz Roy together in tennis shoes (not necessarily reccommended!):

After the Care Bear Traverse Rolo had to drive north to Bariloche to participate in a guides' course. One last two-day weather window appeared, and so I made soloing plans in the Torre Valley. While trying to psyche up for a very difficult objective at the Niponino bivouac, I realized that I didn't feel mentally strong enough in the moment to make a solo attempt on what I had planned, and thus decided on an easier climb. But alas, in my pre-dawn stupor I forgot a few essential items in my tent while departing Niponino, and only realizing this a couple hours above Niponino, I had no choice but to descend, a bit disappointed in myself. I dried out my equipment for several hours at Niponino, and in the afternoon began the hike to town.

I reached El Chalten at 8pm, and immediately checked the weather forecast - The next day was still supposed to be good! I immediately re-packed, got a few hours of sleep, and at 6am caught a taxi out of town to Rio Electrico, bound for Aguja Mermoz. Despite the insufficient amount of rest, I felt good, and managed to solo the Argentine route on Mermoz in 16:15 car-to-car (3:45 base to summit), self-belaying on two pitches. I once again used my dorky helmet-cam, so you can expect another dorky soloing video once I find the time to edit the footage.

Now the days are getting short, the nights long and cold, and I'm packing my things.

Hasta el proximo año mi amor!!!

Guillaumet Solo

2009-12-30T19:09:00.000-08:00

Aguja Guillaumet from the east, showing the Amy Route.

Much of my time in Patagonia is spent waiting for a large weather window to try a difficult objective, and I often let pass many mediocre but nonetheless climbable days, which are suitable only for smaller objectives. However, after festering for a while, and with no properly good weather in sight that could be potentially compromised by not being well rested, I figured I might as well head up to Aguja Guillaumet with a mediocre forecast for Dec. 20th. I had already climbed Guillaumet, one of the easiest summits in the range, three times before, so to make it more challenging I opted to head out alone. I chose to attempt the Amy Route because the first half is a snow, ice and mixed gully, and there was no doubt in the forecast that it would be far too cold to wear rock shoes.

Thus, I left El Chalten in a taxi to Rio Electrico early in the morning, and started the approach up to Paso Guillaumet. After spending a while at Paso Guillamet to eat, drink, and rack up, I finally walked up the short bit of glacier to the bergschrund, and started climbing around 10am. The bergshrund was gaping, and required a bit of tricky climbing up some snow and ice plastered to the right wall of the couloir. The couloir itself was easy, however, with a bit of steep snow, easy ice and blocky mixed climbing.

From the notch at the top of the couloir, I took off crampons and headed up the easy rock ridge above, occasionally taking off my gloves for harder moves. The crux pitch is a short 5.9 dihedral, which with rock shoes I would have been happy to free-solo, but with boots and gloves I decided here to use a rudimentary self-belay. Since I knew I would be rappelling down the same route, I could leave several nuts and cams on this pitch for my self-belay and retrieve them on the descent. I re-donned crampons half-way up the last rock pitch because a wide crack was ice up, and soon was walking up the summit snowfield.

I topped out at about noon, and made quick work of the descent - on schedule for an afternoon return to El Chalten, and a nice, relaxing day in total... However, at the notch at the top of the couloir I found an inexperienced climber, by himself, who was very confused as to the whereabouts of his partner, and did not have means to descend, considering that he had with him only two carabiners, a belay device, a single 50m rope, but no hardware whatsoever. After a lot of shenanigans looking for his missing partner, we rappelled the couloir together and began the hike out. His missing partner was soon found, and no harm done except that I ate a much later dinner!

On this climb I experimented with a new toy: a helmet cam. Through my first, laborious experience of editing video footage, I put together a video of the climb for the Black Diamond website: http://www.blackdiamondequipment.com/en-us/journal/climb/all/video-bd-athlete-colin-haley-wears-a-helmet-camera-during-a-solo-ascent-of-aguja-guillaumet-in-patagonia

Poincenot Solo

2009-12-09T10:31:00.000-08:00

I arrived in El Chalten, Patagonia at the start of a several-day good weather window. Unfortunately, the cold that I had caught right before leaving Seattle had not been cured by four days of stressful travel, and I was forced to pass two good weather days in town. Since I wasn't healthy to take advantage of the full weather window I told Rolo he ought to find another partner, and I made solo plans for myself to use what remained of the good weather. The Whillans Route (650m, 5.9, M4) on Aguja Poincenot was the first route I ever climbed in Patagonia, and would make a good solo I thought. It is an elegant and classic route, winding up an amazing spire but with moderate climbing.

On Monday I hiked from town to a bivy at Laguna de los Tres. It is typical to hike up the glacier and bivy at Paso Superior, but temperatures were much higher than normal, and I hoped that if I waited until early morning the glacier would re-freeze from the sloppy condition it was in. Thus, I left Laguna de los Tres at 4:30am yesterday morning, but to my dismay the glacier was still in terrible condition, with lots of slushy post-holing. I arrived at Paso Superior at 6:00am, and rushed up the glacier above as quickly as I could, because the 300m meter snow ramp that comprises the first half of the Whillans Route was already bathed in sun.

I decided to attempt the route in what I call "Yosemite Style" - that is, without a backpack and instead just a few bare essentials clipped to my harness. Thus, with one liter of water, six GU packets and a windbreaker I crossed the first of three bergshrunds at 7:30am, in rapidly deteriorating snow conditions. The ramp was in terrible shape, with knee-deep slush on an exposed 60-degree angle. From climbing in the Cascades I am very familiar with all sorts of bad snow conditions, so I still felt comfortable with the climbing, but nonetheless the ramp was much slower and more tiring than normal. At the end of the ramp is a mixed chimney, that was dripping with water in the exceptionally hot conditions. It is also the crux of the route, and in this section I made two "back-loops" (a rudimentary form of self-belaying).

Above the mixed chimney the route follows broken rock for about 300m to the summit. Conditions were just barely dry enough to climb entirely in rock shoes, and this allowed me to comfortably free-solo sections that would've required a self-belay in boots. I reached the summit at 11:30am and began the long descent. I had hoped to down-climb most of the ramp, particularly since I had brought only one rope, but given the increasingly slushy snow conditions I was concerned about getting swept off in a wet-slide, and opted to rappel all of it. After rappelling and jumping over the bergshrunds, all that was left was to swim down-glacier through the slush and then batter my knees on the hike back to town. Fortunately I arrived just in time for an asado de cordero...

My moment of fame - an interview on Radio FM Chalten. It seems that at 7pm on a Sunday the radio is run and listened to exclusively by teenage girls.

Aguja Poincenot from Laguna de Los Tres. The Whillans Route climbs the diagonal snow ramp across the East Face, a mixed chimney to gain the left-hand skyline, and then broken rock just around the skyline to the summit.

Looking down from half-way up the ramp:

At the entrance of the mixed chimney:

Looking down from the top of the mixed chimney:

Splitter 5.9 on the upper rock portion:

On the summit, with the Torres behind:

Fall in Yosemite and the Halloween Linkup

2009-12-06T09:52:00.000-08:00

I'm posting this a bit late, but here is a summary I wrote a few weeks ago of my fall pilgrimage to Yosemite:

When most climbers ask me what they should do to prepare for a Patagonia trip, I recommend winter climbing in the Cascades. However, because I come from a snow, ice and bad-weather climbing background, the best preparation I can do is to climb a lot of steep granite, and Yosemite is a perfect training ground. I drove down to Yosemite in early October, and first spent a couple weeks free-climbing. I soon decided though that it was time to finally climb my first El Cap big-wall route. As a warm-up, and to refresh my memory on short-fixing techniques, I first climbed the West Face of Leaning Tower with a friend from Squamish, Nick Elson. Next up was an enjoyable day-trip up Lurking Fear with fellow Seattle-ite, Graham Zimmerman.

Lurking Fear had gone quite smoothly, and so I decided I ought to finally climb "the best rock climb in the world," The Nose. Several of my friends had already just recently climbed The Nose and thus weren't interested, so I scanned the Yosemite Lodge cafeteria in search of a partner. Big-wall soloist Dave Turner has already climbed El Cap countless times, and rarely climbs with a partner at all, so I doubted he would be interested, but nonetheless I offhandedly asked, "Hey Dave, wanna climb The Nose tomorrow?" A pleasant surprise, Dave agreed immediately, and a few hours later we were racking up.

To take full advantage of Dave's superb aid-climbing skills, we decided to break the climb in two lead blocks: mine the longer but technically easier block to the base of the Great Roof, and Dave's the steeper block from there to the top. Starting by headlamp at 4am, we weren't dilly-dallying but also weren't especially trying to climb fast. Thus we were nicely surprised to top out in bright afternoon sun eleven-and-a-half hours later. Considering how easily the route had gone by, Dave suggested on the hike off that we try the Half Dome - Nose linkup a few days later. I hadn't ever heard of anyone doing the linkup so late in the season, with such short, chilly days - but what the hell, at least it'd be good Patagonia training! I agreed it was an excellent idea, and a few mornings later, on the last day of October, we were hiking up the "Death Slabs" to the base of Half Dome's Northwest Face.

There were spots of water-ice on the "Death Slabs," and so considering the chilly air we decided to start Half Dome at the warmest time of the day, and started our linkup at 3:58 pm. Like on El Cap, I led the first half, and Dave took the trickier upper half. I had only climbed Half Dome once, four years ago, but Dave knew the route well. Topping out at 9:30 pm, we were enthused to be ahead of schedule, and scurried down the cables, back down the "Death Slabs," and to our bikes at Mirror Lake.

By midnight we were parked in El Cap meadow, blasting Ace of Base, MC Hammer and other appropriately cheesy music to psyche up for The Nose. After cramming in some food and chugging water, we walked up to El Cap, and started The Nose at 12:30 am. Since our previous climb of The Nose was my first I had taken some extra time to find the route, but now that I knew where to go I could climb a bit faster, even by headlamp. I finished my last pitch, to the base of The Great Roof, at 6:30 am, thankful to finally take off my rock shoes and headlamp.

Dave blasted off, efficient-as-ever, and soon I was jugging up behind him. As the upper pitches flowed by, I began to look at the watch more often - Our intention was to complete the linkup in under 24 hours, but I began to make 20 hours the new goal in my mind, and yelled up to Dave that it ought to be our new goal, although it was hard to say if it would be realistic or not. As Dave started up the final bolt ladder I yelled something like, "Fifteen minutes to twenty hours!," and he yelled back, "Well, I'll make it under twenty, but I don't know about you!" When the rope was fixed I jugged as fast as possible, and then ran up the final slab with a huge cluster of rope and gear hanging off me. At the tree I immediately pulled out the watch: 11:58 am - 20 hours to the minute!

Serious climbing? NO. Are these Yosemite linkups and speedclimbing just fun and games? YES. But it's certainly good Patagonia training! Dave is en route to El Chalten right now, and I will be a couple weeks later...

Climbing "Butterballs" at the Cookie Cliff.

Butterballs is a spectacular splitter finger crack. Still though, the Cookie Cliff is no comparison to The Lower Town Wall at Index.

Tom Evans shot some photos from El Cap meadow while Dave and I were making our first Nose warm-up. This is me leading near the end of my block, in the grey bands.

The beauty of short-fixing: Dave already thirty feet up the next pitch as I finish the last lower-out on the Great Roof.

Dave beginning the third pitch of his block, as I'm jugging the second.

Powered by MC Hammer, Dave in El Cap Meadow, half-way through the linkup.

Slesse, East Face Attempt (or why Sean Easton is badass)

2009-08-29T21:28:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday through Friday Dylan Johnson and I made an attempt on Slesse's East Face route. Established in July 1997 by Sean Easton and Dave Edgar, the East Face of Slesse is most likely the hardest route in the Cascades, and like most of the Cascades hardest routes (pretty much all the rest were established by Pete Doorish), it remains unrepeated, despite several subsequent attempts. The most recent attempt was by Squamish climbers Will Stanhope and Andrew Boyd, who decided after 3.5 pitches that the rock quality wasn't up to snuff for their free-climbing ambitions. Dylan and I similarly made it only a whopping 7 pitches up the wall. Hat's off to Sean and Dave for climbing this beast! (And for those who aren't familiar with it, check out the 2003 AAJ for another Sean Easton route, Blood from the Stone, which, in my opinion, is the best route ever climbed in Alaska).

The mighty eastern walls and buttresses of Slesse, from the trailhead:

Dylan on the polished granite slabs of the Pocket Glacier cirque:

Further up the slabs, with the East Face directly above:

Dylan starting up the second pitch:

And starting the fourth pitch, which gained a bivy terrace:

After arriving at the bivy terrace, I headed up the most obvious feature above, which we thought to be the route. I led and fixed one long pitch, which was the hardest aid pitch I've ever led (a scary basalt dyke), then returned to the terrace for the night's bivy:

Colin jugging back up the fixed pitch the following morning:

I led another aid pitch up the basalt dyke feature, which turned out to be technically easier than the first, but even more terrifying. After gingerly negotiating many loose obelisks of basalt directly above Dylan's belay, I finally found an anchor worthy of lowering off of, and headed back down. Starting up this scary pitch:

Realizing we were off route for sure, we rappelled back down to the bivy terrace, and decided it was time to bail (although on our way down we found where the correct route continues, on a much less obvious feature, but on better rock):

Another Expedition Fails on the Choktoi...

2009-07-22T21:54:00.000-07:00

Despite 30 years of expeditions by many of the world's best alpinists, Pakistan's Choktoi Glacier maintains a 0.0% success rate on the magnificent objectives that are accessed there (Latok 3, Latok I, Latok 2, Ogre 2, Ogre I). The snowpack this year in the Karakorum was the biggest since 1976 according to the locals, which made glacier-travel easy and ridge-climbing difficult. Here is a report on the most recent Choktoi failure, in the words of Dylan Johnson:

______________________________________________
Funded in part by a Mugs Stump Award, Josh Wharton (with his fiancé Erinn Kelly who would stay in base camp), Colin Haley and I left the States on 9 June to attempt the North ridge of Latok 1 in Pakistan’s Karakorum. After a week of traveling in Pakistan, we arrived at base camp on the upper Choktoi Glacier at 4560m, below the North Ridge.

We completed three acclimatization trips on nearby ridges and peaks. First we spent one night at 5000m on a ridge immediately above base camp. Our second trip involved three days retrieving Colin’s gear cache at 5700m at the Ogre/Ogre II col, left behind during his 2008 attempt on the Southeast Buttress of the Ogre with Maxime Turgeon. Our third and final acclimatization mission took us to the summit of the High Sister at 5800m and an adjacent high glacial plateau where we spent two nights at 5850m.

At midnight on 8 July, with a forecast for three good days followed by a minor 24 hour storm, we started toward the base of the north ridge with three 32 pound packs. Our intended line climbed snow and ice on the east side of the ridge, intersecting the ridge at 6000m above the lower sections of heavily corniced and mushroomed ridge. We reached the base of the technical climbing at dawn and began belaying a 250m water ice step. Colin led the first block of grade 3 and 4 ice topping out on steep snow at 5450m. I led the following block of 60 degree snow and ice to the base of a steep mixed step at 5750m where Josh would take over. Our intended line continued up the steep mixed terrain above, which looked reasonable from base camp, but now appeared exceedingly difficult. We opted to climb a short mixed pitch followed by an arduous snow pitch (courtesy Colin, our unconsolidated snow master) to reach the ridge and a bivi near 5830m.

After stamping out a platform on the narrow double-corniced ridge we discussed our options. The ridge itself was impassable due to the sugary mushrooms and cornices, our only option for ascent was to traverse west off the ridge. From his 2008 attempt, Josh knew the terrain to the west was complex and difficult as well. We decided the climbing was too slow and difficult and the chances of summiting were too slim to justify continuing. We rappelled the lower northwest face the following day and returned to base camp and called in the porters. On our trek out from base camp, we met the Spanish alpinists, Alvaro Novellon and Oscar Perez hiking in to attempt the North ridge as well. May they have better luck than we did, inshallah!

We would like to extend our sincere gratitude to the Mugs Stump grant program for their generous support of our expedition.
________________________________________________

The North Faces of Latok 3 (left) and Latok I (center), taken from our basecamp in 2008. The red line shows where we climbed to on our 2009 attempt. We descended on the northwest face (out of the photo, past the North Ridge).

Our awesome and amazing cook, Abdul Ghafoor, who is from the Hunza Valley.

Dylan and Josh during our first acclimatization venture, at 5,000 meters. The words at the top of the Scrabble board are indicative of Expeditionary DSB (Deadly Semen Buildup).

Colin bouldering on the glacier near basecamp. Photo by Dylan.

The Ogre 2 (left) and Ogre I (right) from the Choktoi glacier. Our second acclimatization venture took Dylan and I to the col between the two. Photo by Dylan.

Dylan and Josh hiking up a tributary glacier during our third acclimatization venture.

Acclimatization camping with Latok 3 and Latok I behind.

Josh and Dylan nearing the summit of the highest of the "Three Sisters."

A massive serac avalanche pouring onto the Choktoi Glacier from more than 2,000 meters above on the north face of Latok 3. It dusted our basecamp, on the opposite side of the glacier and past several moraines.

Josh and Dylan following the opening ice pitch during our attempt on Latok I.

Dylan arriving at the top of the ice runnel, a couple hundred meters higher.

Dylan leading a pitch of snow flutings and easy mixed.

Josh on a tiresome 60-degree ice field.

Colin filling bottles during our brew stop at the top of the tiresome 60-degree ice field. Photo by Dylan.

Dylan traversing towards the North Ridge.

Josh arriving on the crest of the North Ridge after the unconsolidated snow pitch.

Dylan belaying as Josh starts stamping a bivy platform.

Our bivy the following morning. We started rappelling towards the left.

Mt. Hunter!

2009-05-27T21:31:00.000-07:00

I have just returned to Seattle from a three-week trip to the Central Alaska Range with Norwegian climber Bjørn-Eivind Årtun. The weather this May was significantly better than average - Apart from a few days of snow showers and a wind storm that lasted for a few days, the weather was consistently mild. The weather forecast on the other hand was consistently pessimistic, and was dead wrong about 85% of the entire month (we slowly learned to ignore it).

We first warmed up with a climb of the "Mini Moonflower," (a sub-peak off of Mt. Hunter's Northeast Ridge) via its North Couloir. Bjørn-Eivind leading in the couloir:

And arriving at the sunny summit:

Next we climbed Kahiltna Queen (aka Humble Peak) for a bit of acclimatization via its West Face. This day was actually fairly snowy, which made for a lot of spindrift avalanches during the descent. Bjørn-Eivind down-climbing up high:

We brought a small rack and two ropes, but never ended up using any of it during the ascent or descent. Colin during the descent:

Next we geared up for an attempt of the Bibler-Klewin on Mt. Hunter's North Buttress (commonly and erroneously referred to as the "Moonflower Buttress"). First climbed in 1983 by Todd Bibler and Doug Klewin, this route snakes up an aesthetic line of ice streaks on the crest of the North Buttress.

We crossed the bergschrund at about 8:30am, simul-climbed up the initial ice slopes to the base of the first steep pitch, and I began the first block. Colin leading the second of the "Twin Runnel" pitches:

Bjørn-Eivind following the same pitch:

Bjørn-Eivind following the "Leaning Ramp" pitch:

Colin beginning "The Prow:"

Colin on "Tamara's Traverse:"

We switched blocks at the top of the first icefield, and soon Bjørn-Eivind was leading the "Death Mushroom" pitch (it was this snow mushroom that tragically collapsed and killed Steve Mascioli during his attempt on the route with Alan Kearney):

Bjørn-Eivind leading the first pitch of "The Shaft:"

Colin arriving at the belay mid-way up "The Shaft:"

Bjørn-Eivind leading "The Vision:"

We switched blocks once more at the top of the third icefield, and soon after it became dark as I led through the "Bibler Come Again" exit pitch. We simul-climbed most of the way up the final icefield until arriving at a nice crevasse/bergshrund which was a perfect resting spot. Bjørn-Eivind arriving at our rest-stop:

After resting and melting snow for several hours we left our wind-protected nook as it was getting light, and headed towards the summit, unfortunately amidst worsening weather. Bjørn-Eivind on Mt. Hunter's upper Northeast Ridge:

As we climbed towards the summit the weather deteriorated more and more, with the forecast winds getting stronger by the minute (After finally learning to ignore the weather forecast, it was right for once!). At first it didn't seem to be too much of a problem, but soon we were unable to stand in the gusts. It was painful to abandon our attempt on a high plateau only 100 meters below Mt. Hunter's summit, but as soon as the decision was made we realized that simply getting down would be a big worry in itself. Without goggles we were almost blind while down-climbing back to the top of the North Buttress, taking twice as much time as the ascent had. Descending the buttress itself was a long, tiring affair of 1,300 meters of rappelling, but fortunately more sheltered from the wind. Colin at our high point:

Back in basecamp, our climb on the Bibler-Klewin felt bittersweet. Sweet because the route was beautiful, and we climbed well in a fast, lightweight style, taking about 16 hours from the bergshrund to our brew stop. Bitter because in alpine climbing the top is the top, and our climb was never finished. It didn't take long to decide we wanted to go back on Mt. Hunter's North Buttress and climb to the summit. Since our strategy of no bivy gear had worked so well on the Bibler-Klewin, we decided to apply the same tactics to a slightly harder route, the Grison-Tedeschi (aka French Route, aka North Couloir). First climbed in 1984 by two French alpinists, I personally think it is the classiest line on the North Buttress, first climbing the obvious couloir and then tackling the upper headwall that the other routes avoid.

After a few rest days we were back at the base of Mt. Hunter's North Buttress. We simul-climbed from the bergshrund to near the top of the couloir before pitching out a couple steeper ice pitches. Bjørn-Eivind on the first belayed pitch:

Bjørn-Eivind leading the second belayed pitch, which gained the top of the couloir:

Bjørn-Eivind following a short, corniced snow arete above the top of the couloir:

Bjørn-Eivind leading an ice runnel above the top of the couloir:

Colin traversing up to the base of the "Black Band:"

Colin beginning a steep ice pitch through the "Black Band:"

Bjørn-Eivind starting the first pitch of the upper headwall:

Colin following on the headwall:

Colin leading near the top of the headwall:

Bjørn-Eivind following a pitch near the top of the headwall in the last rays of alpenglow:

Above the headwall we simul-climbed up ice slopes until the top of the North Buttress, and then took shelter from the wind in a bergschrund. It wasn't nearly as comfy as the crevasse at the top of the Bibler-Klewin, but nonetheless a nice spot to sit down and melt snow. Bjørn arriving at our brew-stop:

Colin at the brew-stop:

After a few hours we headed up towards the summit as it was getting light, this time under beautiful, blue skies. Colin arriving at the summit:

On the summit of Mt. Hunter after the fourth ascent of the Grison-Tedeschi:

We had originally planned to descend the North Buttress, but since we had already rappelled all of the North Buttress following our attempt on the Bibler-Klewin, we decided on a whim to descend the West Ridge instead in the name of seeing more of the mountain. The descent via the West Ridge did not take significantly longer than rappelling the buttress, but was much more tiring. Bjørn-Eivind after our descent of the West Ridge, before the soul-destroying hike back to basecamp:

We had hoped to make one more climb, but with one week left on the glacier and a poor weather forecast we opted instead to fly down to Seattle and climb sunny granite on the Index Town Walls.

The North Buttress of Mt. Hunter saw a lot of activity while we were in the range. Other ascents:
-The Swiss team of Simon and Samuel Anthamatten climbed the Bibler-Klewin, making by far the fastest ascent to date. They climbed from the base to the crevasse-bivy in approximately 14 hours, and made a roundtrip time from basecamp of approximately 36 hours.
-A Canadian team of Dave Edgar and Jay Mills made a fast ascent of Deprivation, and climbed several variations to the original route, making a more direct line of ascent.
-A team of three Scottish climbers made an ascent of the Bibler-Klewin.

Other strong attempts:
-A Canadian team of Dave Edgar, Jay Mills, and Jody Sutherland made an attempt on the Bibler-Klewin to half-way up the final icefield.
-Americans Kyle Dempster and Nate Opp made an attempt on the Bibler-Klewin to just above the "Bibler Come Again" exit pitch.
-Japanese climbers Genki Narumi and Katsutaka "Jumbo" Yokoyama made an attempt on the Wall of Shadows to the top of buttress. From the bergschrund to their highpoint they took NO BACKPACKS(!), just a small waist pack each.

Col du Diable, Macho Couloir

2009-04-21T11:36:00.000-07:00

I headed out for some more steep skiing today, with Italian snowboarder Luca Pandolfi. From below the east face of Mont Blanc du Tacul we climbed up the Capucin Couloir, which is between the Petit Capucin and the Grand Capucin. That brought us to the Breche du Carabinier, and from there the Macho Couloir climbs up to the Col du Diable. The snow was good, and the scenery was spectacular. Some Alps skiing porn:

The Grand Capucin and Petit Capucin - some real nice rock:

Luca climbing up the Macho Couloir, with the Petit Capucin below:

Arriving at the Col du Diable:

The view to the west! From left to right, Aiguille Blanche de Peuterey, Grand Pilier d'Angle, Mont Blanc, and Mont Maudit:

3, 2, 1... dropping!

Schralping the gnar, with the Petit Capucin and Grand Capucin below:

Luca with the Grand Capucin behind: