The day after climbing Forbidden Peak, Ryan and I awoke to a classic Cascade soup. It wasn’t raining, however, and we hoped that we might be able to break out of the clouds once on the mountain.

I was also a little concerned with my feet when I awoke. I’d felt them itch like this before, but nonetheless, it made it especially un-fun to slide them back into wet socks and soggy boots.

We set off a little later than the previous day and began the slog out to the hidden gully used to access the ridge. A little over an hour later we were at the base and roped up.

It was a good choice to rope up below the gully if for no other reason than to speed things up above. We simul’d up the easy snow and set an anchor before hopping onto the rock.

The first section of rock is 4th class, but there is a real danger of kicking rock onto your partner below. Luckily, Ryan is careful climber and I followed him up to gain the notch.

A single, scary step on a thin snowbridge allowed us to traverse a snowfield and get to the base of the climb.

None of the climbing on this route is especially difficult. I think Beckey calls it 5.4 and I wouldn’t disagree. But, we ended up pitching out more of this climb than on Forbidden because the protection can be quite sparse.

More than once, I arrived to an anchor and remarked, “Man you really ran that one out,” as I handed over the two pieces Ryan had placed.

Moreover, the fog gave the route an eerie character–I never knew quite how exposed the next move was. This feeling is only accentuated when, the last piece of gear is cleaned between you and your simul’ing partner.

We took a quick break for lunch at noon as we came around onto the southeast face. 45 minutes after lunch we summited.

I pulled out the beefiest summit register I’ve ever seen–it must weigh 5 lbs. We read a few accounts of how brilliant the view is and discussed how we thought we were only 50 feet below the top of the clouds. Oh well, the view yesterday more than made up for it.

Ascent time: 7 hours

Grade II, 5.4, pro to 2 inches

The descent is when things really got interesting. After downclimbing the immediate summit ridge, we started rapping. On our 70m rope, I think we did 7 raps. While the route description on Summit Post is probably right that the top portion is third class, I really don’t like passing up solid looking rap stations to scramble down into a grey abyss.

The face gets progressively steeper and by the third rap, down climbing wasn’t a viable option anymore. Finally, at the bottom of our 6th rap we spotted the snow. My feet nearly screamed hallelujah, since camp was just some boot skiing away. By this point, each step felt like a thousand dull tacks being driven into my feet.

Ryan decided to rap first. He disappeared over the edge.

“Uhhhh. Dude, we have serious moat problems.”

“Really, well can you see the bottom?”

“Maybe, or at least an intermediate bottom.”

“How steep is the snow?”

“It’s overhung.”

Hmmmm. Not good. We had two pickets for 30 feet of 100 degree snow. That wasn’t going to happen.

“Well we have two options, climb it or climb back up this face.”

At this point the fog had turned to rain. I had of course opted to leave my puffy back at camp because we were going to break out of the clouds like yesterday, right? Visions of shiverring away the night at the bottom of this god-forsaken moat, motivated me to figure out a plan c.

“Hey Ryan, what does the glacier look like over there?”

“A hell of a lot better than what I’m hanging above, but I don’t know if I can get there.”

“I think you might be able to get over there using the crack on this face.”

A half hour of grunting and swearing ensued as Ryan made his way down the crack and fixed the rap line to the wall.

I contemplated how I was going to follow this. It was so off vertical that it didn’t lend it self to a standard rap. In the end, we fixed the bottom of the line and I did what amounted to an aid traverse using prusiks. Yes, it was just as fun as it sounds…

An half hour passed as I struggled down. Now we had to get out.

This turned out to be easier than it appeared It was only couple steep steps out of the moat, but we were then greeted by the narrowest snowbridge we’d seen on this trip. This one really gave me the willies. It was only two steps long, but it wasn’t much more than 6 inches wide. We set up a belay and gave it a go. Kudos to Ryan for guinea pigging that thing.

Finally, back on the snow, we saw the happiest sight of the day. The bergschrund was above us. Score! An hour and a half later we were back eating a delicious dinner of tasty bites.

Descent Time: 7 hours

Back in camp, my feet were in sorry shape. Swollen, red, and pins and needles all over. Amazingly, I hadn’t developed a single blister. I rinsed them off and gritted my teeth and hoped they’d feel better for the hike tomorrow.

I still don’t know if this was truly trenchfoot. I didn’t think it could develop this fast, especially when I was able to dry my feet out every night. But, reading the description it at least sounded like the direction my feet were headed in. If it was mild trenchfoot, I can’t even imagine how painful a full blown case would be.

While I let my feet recover in Seattle, I had a little chuckle that we weren’t the only ones who had some trouble with the moat.

Overall, Mount Torment is some full-on classic mountaineering. It wasn’t technically difficult at any point, but required every skill in the book on a dirty route that it characteristic of most of the classic first ascent routes in United States.

I went back out to the Cascades this summer to meet up with my buddy Ryan. Originally, we had planned to climb Rainier, but plans changed we I developed a slight case of Trenchfoot in the North Cascades. Foot problems aside, this was one of the best mountaineering trips I’d been on. During our 3 days in Boston Basin we climbed Forbidden Peak on August 9 and Mount Torment on the 10th. Happily, we decided against doing the traverse as the weather wasn’t great our second day.

We parked in the Boston Basin pullout in the shadow of Mount Johannesberg. My car puked out a huge amount of climbing gear onto our tarp and we quickly decided to leave most of it behind.

Packs bulging, we asked a couple Canadians to join us in a pre-victory PBR. They must have been fake Canadians, however, as they turned us down and marched intently up the trail.

Pre-victory beers consumed, we started the hike in. Basically, the approach lulls you into a false sense of comfort. The first half mile gently switchbacks up the Cascades. The trail then bends you over and goes straight up for the next half mile, gaining close to 1000′. I clawed my way up the near vertical dirt. Ryan seemingly used his witchcraft to float over this devil dirt. The last 2 miles are a shameless copy of the trail up Mt. Si and were a welcome reprieve from the previous sillyness.

We arrived to the low camp about 3 hours later where we discovered that all the primo tent pads had been taken. We were left chasing away some marmots and clearing a bench off of the next snow-free piece of the moraine. Ryan obviously took a bit more care with his side of the tent as I developed a nice bruise on my hip from my ill chosen sleeping pad placement which wasn’t quite clear of small rocks.

This was some of the most fun climbing I’ve ever done in the mountains. It started with an bleary-eyed slog out of camp at 5am.

We broke out of the clouds at 6800′ on 25 degree snow. Finally Ryan and I started to wake up. The snow gradually ramped up as we approached the couloir.

“Dude, those guys were a bunch of pussies.” I hear Ryan say as he described the snow bridge over the bergschund a couple other climbers had told us about they day before.

We climb 3 feet higher.

“Uhhhhhh… I was wrong. They weren’t lying,” Ryan said as he enjoyed some crow. We eyed the snowbridge which had now choked down to 12 inches in front of us. To our left we spied a nice rope that had been fixed on the couloir wall. 6 feet of moat separated us. We wondered…

But expediency won out. Since it was only 7 am and the snow had been bulletproof on the lower portion we decided to just go for it. That rope wasn’t going to help anyway. The bridge was pretty thick and felt very solid. But, I don’t think I would have wanted to make that decision 3 days later.

Then the giggling commenced. The climbing was that good.

“God, I want to ski this so bad,” I yelled.

“Not right now,” Ryan rightly said noting the perfect climbing conditions and not so perfect ski conditions.

The snow ramped up to 55 degrees and I had the most fun up the remaining 500′ of couloir I’ve had on snow this year.

Following the couloir there was about 50 feet of class 4 scrambling up an open book, which remained engaging as we climbed through in crampons.

Meeting the west ridge we ran into a party who had bivyed at the notch to climb the northwest ridge.

We continued up the West Ridge with the clouds a thousand feet below.

Every 15 minutes we heard the characteristic, distant freight train sound as ice calved off Mount Johannesberg and Eldorado Peak.

The protection was plentiful and the rock was solid.

We simuled most of the route and short-roped two small pitches.

A lunch time summit allowed us to enjoy some cheese and pig heart…err…summer sausage (not kidding, read the label next time).

Ascent Time: 7 hours

We simuled back down the West Ridge, with 2 raps.

Then we made 4 raps off the south side just west of where the couloir ends.

We used a 70m rope and though you’d be able to do it on a 60m, we had to downclimb quite a bit to get to the next rap station. Honestly, this downclimbing was the sketchiest part of the whole climb. The face is sort of dirt/grass ledges on a steep slope with some loose rock, definitely class 4 just due to the exposure and some awkward moves.

Descent Time: 4 hours

Grade II, 5.6, Pro to 3 inches

The Tooth Traverse from renan ozturk on Vimeo.

This video is almost unfair because it’s so good. Renan Ozturk is probably the most talented, badass climbing videographer out there. All his stuff is just jaw dropping. This looked so painful, so hard, and so necessary. Can’t wait for these guys to get another shot at it–I want to see the end of the story!

On Assignment from renan ozturk on Vimeo.

Let’s list the ways this is awesome:

1. Chill photographer, check

2. Huge Exposure, check

3. Unreal timelapses, check

4. Captures the reason way you’d schlep 70 lbs 3000′, check

Aftermath… Ticked off both Forbidden and Torment, but they made us work for it.

The speed this guy can move over tough terrain is amazing. Do yourself a favor and watch this full screen, high def.

I first tried to climb The Tooth in November 2007 with two other students from Whitman–Ryan Leary and Phil Collins. However, the late fall weather didn’t cooperate and we turned around at Pineapple Pass to slog through the rain back to the trail head. We then visited a delicious Teriyaki place in Cle Elum, so all wasn’t lost!

This time I returned with Ryan in beautiful, sunny, 80 degree weather to even the score.

We parked in the Alpental parking lot and quickly marched up the Snow Lake trail. We reached the fork in the trail and continued straight towards Source Lake. We soon left the trail and traversed the talus slope above the lake (hint: cut off from the trail sooner than you think so you don’t gain unnecessary elevation). We hiked over to the most eastern gully and found the pretty well worn path that led up the gully and into Great Scott Basin. We took advantage of some left over snow and cruised up to the notch on the ridge just (climber’s) left of Pineapple Pass proper. From the notch we scrambled around the back side of the small pinnacle to the base of the climb.

We climb the standard route on the south face as described on SummitPost. We pitched it out in 2 pitches with a short simul-climb over the 4th class ramp system in the middle of the face. The first pitch begins at a crack up a ramp that is gained by shimmying around a large chock stone to the left of the start. From this crack, Ryan led out the full 60m pitch. After finding our way through the ramps, we pitched out the last section on nice vertical granite, staying to the right to stay in the prominent crack.

Ascent Time: 4 hours

We did 4 raps off the summit and then rapped from Pineapple pass to save time. From the base of the Pineapple Pass gully, we just retraced our steps back to the car.

Descent Time: 3 hours

Grade II, 5.4, Pro to 3 inches

So a friend and I decided to try to ski The Great One, a couloir on the north face of Sacagawea’s southern sister peak. Our start was delayed due to the road to the trail head being closed (of course the first car through once the gate opened arrived just as we finished the 3 mile ‘extension” of the hike). The hike up required kicking a few steps and I in my running shoes obliged. The problem was that without a hard toe two things happen. First (and most obviously) your toes get smashed. Second, your foot get deflected and wrenched in odd ways. By the halfway point my right knee was starting to hurt. In any case, we ended up summiting Sacagawea a bit later than planned, but precisely when a rare 10 a.m. thunderstorm starting throwing bolts. Seeing lightning strike about 5 miles south of us, we decided to retrace our steps as quickly as possible. Neither of us felt good about being on the highest peak in the range holding metal sticks with metal skis extending 2 feet above our packs. I was especially nervous because I knew my knee was not going to let me ditch my pack and make a break for it. As we came down, another group continued their hike on the assumption that the storm will be funneled to the south of us. Whenever I see a person making the exact opposite choice as me in a similar situation, it makes me question my judgment.

While it sucked to bail, lighting is one of the few factors in the outdoors you have very little control over. It is probably the only nature phenomenon I won’t mess with. In nearly every situation there is gear or skills that will keep you alive. With lighting about all you can do is try to get to a less exposed area, crouch and cross your fingers.

The story has a predictable ending though. As the other group forecast, the storm blew to the south. So we tossed on our ski boots and got in about 1000 feet of turns. It is July, so I can’t complain. Now I just have to figure out how to move to Seattle without bending my right knee…

Each time I drive to the park via the Gardiner entrance Emigrant Peak looms in the eastern sky of the Paradise Valley. Emigrant Peak is an impressive geologic structure. It rises steeply more than 6000 feet from the floor the valley. It is a classic, non-technical scramble than rewards climbers with panoramic views of the Beartooth, Gallatin, Madison Range, and Absorka Mountains.

We chose to park at Gold Prize Trail head. To get there follow the road to Dailey Lake and make a left before the dirt road descends to the lake. Follow the trail through a burned out section of forest. The trail then arcs left and climbs steeply to old jeep track. Follow this section of double track until you spot a creek crossing and trail ascending to the right of a stream. This trail will deposit climbers into a large meadow which slowly ramps up in steepness until a large stand of trees.

From the meadow you have two choices. The route described on SummitPost.org and in Turiano’s Select Peaks will have climbers follow a fence line on climber’s left into the trees. We did this and made our way through the trees. This is somewhat of a pain, as the slope is about 40 degrees and is forest floor, which does not offer the best traction.

The other option to aim for a large rock formation on climber’s right of the meadow. Gaining this formation, scrambling over scree and talus begins very quickly.

Either route will deposit climbers on the northwest ridge. The ridge is made up of easy class 2 scrambling over 40 degree talus. There are a few short class 3 sections where use of your hand is necessary, but these are very easy. The final summit ridge is quite exposed, especially in early season when snow makes the ridge a knife edge with 50 degree slopes to either side of the climber.

Ascent Time: 4 hours

We stayed on the NW ridge to take advantage of the scree and avoid the trees, but otherwise retraced our steps.

Descent Time: 3 hours

II Class 2 (Short section of Class 3 scrambling)

I had been eying Gallatin Peak for a few years. It is the largest peak visible from Bozeman and looked to be a great peak to ski. With the huge snowpack this spring, I finally got the chance to climb and ski it this past weekend (6/15/08). It’s quite a haul to get in, but the ski descent made it well worth the trip.

The approach from the North Fork trail head was a very long skin in. It probably totals about 9 miles into Bear Basin, where we made camp, and another 3 miles to the summit. Other parties we ran into were skinning in from the Beehive Basin Trail Head to climb the peak as a day trip. In hindsight this appears to be the wise choice.

The route is pretty straight forward from the North Fork Trail Head. The trail begins at 7179′ and descends about 100′ in a half mile to intersect a subdivision. Unfortunately, there is no parking allowed at this intersection. The trail is well built for the next mile and half. After two miles a hiking bridge is crossed over the North Fork River. A well blazed trail continues for another mile until it intersects with the Beehive Basin Trail No. 402. It appeared that the skin track to Beehive Basin was actually about a half mile north of the actual trail. The North Fork trail becomes thinly marked at this point. Just follow the river generally north. The key is to round Mt. 9385 on the west side of the river. After this point continue up Bear Basin. The skin track over the divide breaks off well before (half mile) before the charted trail switchbacks up the divide. After that we skied a wonderful 800′ into the Hell Roaring basin and made our way to the base of the climb just right of the prominent rock buttress on the south face.

We skinned the first thousand feet of the climb before throwing our skis on our packs and kicking steps up to a well defined saddle. From the saddle we climbed the east facing snow field to the summit. This was the steepest part of the climb (~50°). The slope mellows a bit to about 35° for the final 200 feet to the summit.

We skied the same line we climbed due to wet slide danger on the south facing bowl.

IV 50° (Class 3 in Summer) (via North Fork)

III 50° (Class 3 in Summer) (via Beehive Basin)