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  • A return to the Sierra – ’26 Fall Climbing

    A return to the Sierra – ’26 Fall Climbing

    My first week back from the Cascades came with a tough realization. Despite sending nearly 3,000 ft of technical climbing the previous week, my knee was still not fully recovered. I was training for a trail race in the middle of August at Alta ski resort in Utah. It was a stop on the Cirque Series and I was well suited for its short, steep course. But I was only two weeks away from a ruptured bursa sack on my right knee. I ran 16 miles over a few days to test out my readiness and I could have seen what was coming. My knee ballooned once again and I reluctantly broke the news to my race partners in crime. Next year I’d come back for redemption, but for now I needed true rest. In the next few weeks I would reset once again, visit friends and family, and prepare to get back out in the alpine.

    Mt. Superior in the summer, across the road from the Alta Cirque Series race
    My bum knee one week before the race

    Despite not racing, I still made it out to support my friends in Utah. In usual fashion, I arrived on a Thursday night and immediately planned for a packed weekend. The next morning I’d join my good friend Ian for a day mountain biking in Park City. This local biking mecca had free shuttles which we used to ascend 2,500 ft up the mountain. My knee was still not perfect, but we got in a mostly downhill day on some awesome trails in the area. That night our last visitor, Devin, would get into town and we’d get ready for the race the next day. Ian and I were both not racing, but wanted to find some way to have fun anyway while cheering on the crowd. So while Devin was distracted prepping near the start of the course, Ian and I took out a case of beers from the back of the car. Just before the start of the race, we sprinted up the mountain with the case on our backs. We’d trade it off every few minutes and were redlining up the hillside. Our route was direct to the summit of Mt. Baldy and we managed to get up in about an hour with 25 lbs of beer. The race officials loved the idea of handing out sips to the participants and even donated us some plastic cups. After making an impromptu ‘Unofficial Aid Station 1.5’ sign we managed to hand out just about all the beers to random contestants. It was a clear hit for the day and Devin was quite excited to see us waiting at the top. The rest of the weekend was a blast and our trio even managed to get a big alpine bike ride in the next day. Although I was bummed to miss out on the race itself I knew my time would come.

    Ian biking in Park City
    Ian carrying up some race snacks up to Mt. Baldy
    Awesome views from Sundance resort while biking around Mt. Timpanogos
    Ian and Devin on the bike loop descent

    Another couple weeks passed while I slowly ramped up my cardio. My knee was quickly healing but I wanted to stay well within my limits. Thankfully this aligned with a fantastic trip back home. I flew back to see my family in New Jersey for 10 days at the beginning of September. As usual we went boating nearly everyday. Some days it would be slalom water skiing with my family who still get many days out on the water each summer. Other days we’d join my dad’s crew in Bud Lake for wakeboarding. For labor day we’d head to Lake George in upstate New York to try out the new ‘e-foil’ in epic fashion. I was struggling to keep up with my usual running volume, but having the opportunity to go boating nearly everyday was the perfect concession. To add to the fun I even managed to get in three days visiting friends in NYC and one day back in the Gunks for some guided single pitch trad. By the time it was time to go back, I was starting to wish I could spend more time living in the East Coast. But then my focused shifted once again. My buddy Joe was organizing a trip back to the Sierras. My flight back to SF was Friday afternoon on September 11th. The next day I’d drive out to Tuolumne Meadows.

    Enjoying some time at home to rest
    Learning to ride the ‘e-foil’ in Lake George
    Following on “Andrew” in the Gunks
    Yosemite Valley seen from the flight back to SF

    Joe had also taken a step back from climbing as he was starting his next fall semester as a high school teacher. We were forced back into the weekend warrior routine but managed to find a nice inspiring route. Our vision was to link the NW ridge of North Peak with the North ridge of Mt. Conness. It was a classic backcountry ridgeline solo and went at a mellow easy 5th grade1. We’d still bring a rope, but only for a pair of rappels on Mt. Conness’ 2nd ridgeline tower2. Otherwise our group of four would plan on moving fast and light through this awesome pair of Tuolumne peaks. I met the crew just before sunrise on Sunday morning. I had met some of the others before, but we were all a fairly new group to one another. I also had one more surprise to announce for them before we began our approach. I recently bought an old VHS camcorder and was psyched to test it out for a test ride on our day climbing. Thankfully they obliged and we headed off towards North Peak from Saddlebag Lake.

    Ollie on the approach from Saddlebag Lake
    First light on North Peak
    North Peak and Mt. Conness in alpenglow

    Alpenglow light up the surrounding landscape while we made our way across the lakeside. Soon we were greeted with stunning views of the massive continuous ridgeline above luscious alpine meadows. We took it all in while continuing onwards towards our last water refill station. There we took a quick pause and planned out our off trail route towards the NW ridge of North Peak. It wasn’t long before we were on the ridgeline proper and faced the first section of 5th class climbing. This was a series of two deep notches3 in the ridge that were difficult to climb around. Instead we’d downclimb maybe 10 ft or so and then gain the ridge once more with a handful of thoughtful moves. It was my first time climbing in a while and I didn’t feel great about this initial section. We all wore approach shoes and moderately heavy packs for the alpine. Nerves set in as I knew Mt. Conness would be distinctly harder climbing with more sustained exposure. Regardless I continued on and trusted my gut.

    North Peak
    Gaining the NW Ridge of North Peak, between the two notches

    The second half of North Peak was awesome. Outside of the two notches all remaining terrain was no more than 4th class. My spirits began to rise slightly as we moved fast on the awesome ridgeline exposure. Shortly after this ridge widened to 2nd class terrain and we walked another half mile or so to the summit. Occasionally I’d pull out the VHS camcorder and take a view clips of the crew ahead. My intention was to get nostalgic footage while artificially increasing the difficulty of filming in a way that was obvious to the audience. I also was intent on not getting in the way of my friends as we only briefly paused in each section. As we began our descent to the North Peak – Mt. Conness Col4, our buddy Tyler was lagging slightly. Sadly he was not feeling the day and decided to head back after reaching his main objective for the day: North Peak. It was a fairly straightforward descent and he felt very comfortable making it back solo. I debated joining him but was starting to feel a little better about the day.

    4th class section after the two notches
    The cruiser, exposed portion of the NW ridge
    Near the end of the ridge
    Awesome Tuolumne views

    Joe, Ollie, and I continued onwards to the North ridge of Mt. Conness. Our journey began with quite a long section of 3rd class terrain. We moved quite quickly on this section and it was a blast. No thinking required, just good movement on good rock. Next we’d arrive at the 1st tower and see the crux of the route ahead. We would need to gain the 2nd tower nearby, rappel down, then climb a long ways up the main 5th class portion of the ridge. Joe and Ollie were both a bit more comfortable on this terrain. Joe had been practicing downclimbing at most opportunities throughout the summer. Ollie had climbed the North ridge not that long ago and knew the rappels pretty well. While I conservatively chose to stay roped up, the pair both impressively downclimbed the tower rappels. These went at 5.5 & 5.6, respectively. They were wearing approach shoes, big packs, and from the Northwest were strong winds. I filmed from behind and knew I’d have to step up to the plate if I were to solo this type of route in the future.

    Looking towards the 2nd tower
    1st rappel station, downclimb goes at 5.5
    Looking back at the 2nd rappel section, downclimb goes at 5.6 on the corner

    Once we regrouped, it was time for the most fun part of the day. We moved fast on slabby, easy 5th terrain up the remaining portion of the North Ridge. We were all having a blast and my worries seemed to melt away. There were plenty of good ledges to rest and there were no individual moves that were particularly concerning. We all took our own paths before joining back at the summit block. Several parties had also been resting there and came from the numerous other routes on the popular peak. From the summit we could see all of Tuolumne Meadows and the huge granite walls of Yosemite background. At that moment I was stoked once again to get back into alpine climbing. The only thing left was our descent down Mt. Conness’ East Ridge. The three of us moved quickly and our round trip time back to the car was just over 8 hours. I felt confident in my general fitness and was stoked to be back in the game with friends. I enjoyed that evening getting dinner with Joe before a spectacular Lee Vining night in my truck.

    Easy low angle terrain on the North ridge
    More 5th class climbing with the 2nd tower in the background
    Joe showing off some awesome exposure
    Summit selfie

    A few weeks passed and it was time to plan another Sierra outing before Tioga Pass closed for the season. In the meantime I set off on two other great trips: a weekend backpacking with my roommates in Lassen National Park and the following weekend in Vermont for my friends Meredith and Ryan’s wedding. Afterwards plans came together quite smoothly for the beginning of October. My friend Andie from LA invite a group of us out to her family’s cabin in nearby Walker Lake. This stunning alpine community had ten cabins far along a dirt road and was only 15 minutes from Tioga Pass. My old climbing partner Trevor would be joining the crew and the two of us immediately put together some climbing options. The obvious choice for me was to return to Mt. Conness for a true backcountry classic: the West Ridge. This was a much longer and more technically difficult route than its Northern neighbor. Just getting to the base of the route required an approach nearly to the summit of the peak before descending back towards its west aspect. After the West Ridge began with three pitches of 5.6 before easing off to 4th and 5th class terrain. In total it was 1500 ft tall and had some spectacular knife edge exposure. I was particularly interested in the route from its guidebook hype: ‘Peter Croft’s favorite backcountry route’ and ‘a combination of Cathedral and Tenaya’.

    Trevor descending with the complete West ridge in the background

    I met Trevor and the gang late on a Thursday night at the Lee Vining Mobile Mart. We would try to wake up before sunrise so we immediately headed for the trailhead at Sawmill Camp. Instead of the northern approach from the previous week, our initial ascent would match the standard Mt. Conness descent towards the East ridge. We were once again greeted with a gorgeous alpine sunrise as we slowly made our way up the steep granite slabs. Just getting to the large plateau east of the summit ridge required about 2,500 ft of gain. It took us about 2.5 hours but eventually we made it. There we saw a spectacular vista once again of Tuolumne Meadows. Unfortunately we could just barely make out some looming smoke clouds from the Dome fire near Yosemite Valley. Once again this year we were faced with potential smoke filling the area. Shortly after we were descending towards the West ridge. This required navigation through a small notch and down a steep, loose gully. To our right was the massive Southeast face of Mt. Conness. This face contains the iconic Harding Route: a classic 9 pitch 5.10c put up long ago by Warren Harding5. For today it was far beyond our ability and we continued past towards the adjacent ridge.

    Sunrise over Mt. Dana on the approach
    The incredible Sierra
    Some spectacular alpine lakes
    Tuolumne meadows from the plateau east of Mt. Conness
    Trevor on the first 100 ft of climbing

    Trevor and I solo’d up 100 ft or so before racking up6. Ahead was the steepest portion of terrain and I was feeling the nerves. Nothing looked particularly hard at first, but I knew that it would be easy to get off route. I studied the topo a few more times and planned out my general strategy. The first pitch was stout but straightforward. I aimed slightly right and towards a large corner system. Most of the climbing was low angle and well featured. At some cruxy moves I hesitated while searching for some adequate protection. Eventually I found some old tat7 and made the first belay. Trevor followed pretty quickly and it was time for pitch 2. Although we were now in a corner I felt like this was the crux of the day. Climbing was steeper and I relied heavily on good hand jams8. There was a short section of near vertical climbing that was strenuous and definitely felt harder than 5.6. If this route were in Washington Pass I would not be surprised if it was established as 5.7+/5.8-. Eventually I found the next belay at a nice sloping ledge. At this point I was feeling pretty stoked and once again planned my strategy with the topo. Pitch three had some steep jugs9 in front of me but then I could tell the route started to level off. Not long after I pulled through these moves and cruised onwards towards the next belay. We still had a ton of climbing left to go but I was stoked to have made it past the technical crux of the day.

    Leading up the corner on pitch 2
    Finally reaching the end of pitch 3 as the smoke clouds rolled in

    Our strategy from this point onwards was to simul climb and solo10 as much terrain as possible. According to the guidebook the ridge had a handful of 5.5/5.6 moves but otherwise was fairly sustained at 4th class. Each of us brought one microtraxion11 and I would place these at the end of a rope length. Our first simul block12 went quite quickly. I climbed slowly and steadily without placing much gear at all. I’d guess that we made it through 400-500 ft in total before I eventually placed a fixed anchor to pull Trevor up. At this point the ridge narrowed slightly but still wasn’t quite a knife edge. It was only once in a while that we could peer over the ridge edge and see the Southeast face. It was still a spectacular setting and we could tell the cliffside was slightly overhanging. When I started the second simul block, the ridge steepened once again. I wanted to stick somewhat close to the true ridgeline and encountered a handful of harder sections. This made progress just a tad slower and it was then that I started to feel the fatigue set in. The ridge seemed to go on forever even with our mega simul blocks.

    The huge west ridge at the start of the simul blocks
    Trevor following on the ridge
    Lots of runout on easy terrain

    Near the end of the second block, we were gifted with the true knife edge portion of the ridge. It was truly an epic setting and the mountain seemed to give way endlessly in all directions. I started to get a second wind and our pace increased once again. Soon I started to see what I thought was the ridge leveling off. We had climbed close to a thousand feet of simul climbing and I was ready to reach the summit. I offered the lead to Trevor and he took off for the last of the climbing blocks. Starting off was pretty mellow 3rd and 4th class terrain. After a while he called back and said the ridge just kept going. I felt quite comfortable with the terrain so we eventually just scrapped the microtraxions all together. I cleaned gear quickly and we sped through the rest of the ridgeline. There were still some moments of knife edge exposure, but everything after this point was class 3 or below. Finally we made it to the summit block and I was blown away by the scale of the mountain. The west ridge was way bigger than the North ridge from the previous week. The 5.6 cruxes were way harder than I initially imagined. One day I would have to go back for the Southeast face and see what this place really had to offer.

    Reaching the knife edge portion of the ridge
    Some cool looking rocks
    Trevor following near the end of the 2nd simul block
    Trevor leading up the last block
    Final portion of the ridge
    Summit selfie

    After a short break at the summit we looked back into the valley. What was a somewhat clear meadow earlier in the day had become an opaque blanket of smoke. It was sad to see a continuously increasing frequency of wildfire impact backcountry experiences. I suppose that is the future of my generation. Despite the bleak view, we were still stoked from the day. We would celebrate more when we made it back to our crew. For now we had quite a long ways back to our car. It was the second time in a month that I had descended the East ridge. It would take a while but I knew I just had to hang in there. By the time we made it back it was just before dark. Our round trip was just over 12 hours. Later that night we’d meet our friends back at Walker Lake. We were both completely exhausted and struggled to match the energy of the crew for dinner. Regardless I was incredibly excited for the rest of the weekend. The next two days we would spend hiking and fishing in the Sierra backcountry. The views were excellent and we were lucky to experience them in near peak foliage. The return to hiking after such a wild alpine experience is always quite refreshing for me. What I really love about climbing is the shared moments with friends in wild settings. We got both ends of the spectrum that weekend and I think they were equally quite special.

    Walker Lake, Lee Vining
    Friends out hiking
    Mono Pass
    1. Easy 5th class ridgelines are common in the Sierra and toe the line between solo’ing and climbing with a rope for most parties ↩︎
    2. Intermediate ridgeline sub-peaks, sometimes called towers, usually require downclimbing or rappels ↩︎
    3. Ridge notches are usually sudden drops in the ridge that lead to gullies on either side ↩︎
    4. The middle point between both peaks ↩︎
    5. About 1200 ft of much more difficult climbing. First ascended by Warren Harding, a famous yosemite climber who first climbed El Capitan ↩︎
    6. Climbed easy terrain without a rope before transitioning to climbing gear ↩︎
    7. Material used for climbing anchors ↩︎
    8. Hand jams are a climbing technique used to ascend crack systems ↩︎
    9. ‘Jugs’ – Easy climbing holds to grip ↩︎
    10. ‘Simul Climb’ – Climb simultaneously without a fixed belay, generally trades speed for safety. Solo’ing is even faster but less safe ↩︎
    11. ‘Microtraxion’ – One way device used to catch follower falls while simul climbing ↩︎
    12. ‘Simul Block’ – About three lengths of rope, 400-500 ft ↩︎
  • Redemption in the Cascades – ’26 Summer Climbing

    Redemption in the Cascades – ’26 Summer Climbing

    It was 2 am on a Thursday morning. The only place open in Bellingham was a Russian Dumpling shop outside of a crowded bar in town. Joe and I looked awful as we stumbled in from our three hour drive. Blood was still dripping from the bandage on my knee. At the time I was more focused on downing dumplings as quickly as possible. It was a good distraction from the potential recovery I had ahead. The week of climbing leading up to that day (see previous article here) ended in a rock smashing my knee on the descent from Mt. Cutthroat. I was happy to have survived but I couldn’t help but think about being stuck in Washington with a bum knee. That night I didn’t know the extent of the injury. The only thing on my mind was Advil PM, sleep, and planning our next trip.

    Mt. Cutthroat from the Southeast
    General sentiment on the descent of Mt. Cutthroat

    I awoke that next morning on a residential street in my truck and began planning what was next. Luckily my friends Meredith and Ryan were nearby and were gracious enough to let me crash for a while. I’d have time to rest and seek some medical attention that I desperately needed. Despite having little trouble descending 2,500 ft on a bum knee, it was now nearly immobile with 24 hours passing. X-rays came back with no signs of breakage and I came out of the office with no confirmation of injury for the time being. It wasn’t until a few weeks after that I was confirmed to have bursitis, a rupture of the bursa sack on my patella. I also should have gotten some stitches but never followed through. So all being said the recommendation was to just rest, ice, elevate, and take a bunch of advil. I was glad not to have a permanent injury. I was also devastated to be out of commission.

    Bellingham trailrun views

    After five days I went on my first run. My knee was just slightly swollen, maybe an inch wider than its neighbor. Joe was itching to get back out there and I wanted to make sure I still had it in me. I started off easy with 4 ish miles just below 10 minute pace. The next day I ran 5 a minute faster. On the 7th day from my injury, Joe and I were on the road. Plan A was to tackle the route we first came to the Cascades for: the West Ridge of Forbidden Peak. This route is a 50 classic climb and was yet another Becky FA. Normally climbed in the spring, it has a little bit of everything the alpine has to offer. We’d need to hike a steep and remote approach. Then depending on conditions, we’d cross a glacier and gain the ridge via a steep couloir1. Next is about 1500 ft of traversing on a spectacular knife edge ridge. It’s grade was only 5.6, but successful parties needed to move quite fast. Once on the summit, the descent becomes the crux in classic fashion. We’d need to retrace our steps down the entire route. Joe and I arrived at the trailhead after another 3 hour drive. I was pretty nervous and we debated if we should pull the trigger late that night. Instead I continued to feel unsure. Looking at the recent trip reports it was clear that the access to the ridge was void of snow. The steep gully would be another death trap with rockfall. It was not the right call given our previous endeavor.

    Back on Highway 20
    Hanging glaciers above Johannesburg Campground, the trailhead for Forbidden Peak
    Another Johannesburg campground view

    That night we settled on a fine alternative. We drove to the Blue Lake Trailhead below the Liberty group for another round of climbing on Washington Pass. This time we actually bought the SuperTopo2 and chose another classic: the Southwest Rib of the South Early Winter Spire. This was the highest peak of the group and our route would follow 900 ft of sustained climbing to its summit. Its first two pitches were stiff 5.8 cracks3. Afterwards were several runout pitches of slab and offwidth4. Coming from Squamish I agreed to take on all of the crack pitches while Joe took the runout slabs. I studied the topo and descent rigorously that night. I wanted to come back and send the route in good style5. From a technical standpoint it was the most difficult route we’d attempt together. Commitment-wise it was definitely a step down from both Mt. Cutthroat or Forbidden Peak. For me this was perfect and we got ready for yet another early departure.

    Liberty Group as seen from below
    On the approach to South Early Winter Spire
    The Southwest Rib as seen from the descent – wavy crack and bear hug are visible IYKYK

    The approach was quite nice and my knee felt good. We had great weather and were joined by a few others on the route. By 9 am we were racked up below the first pitch. I was on lead and was feeling surprisingly good. I knew the crux of the route would be a short overhanging hand crack at the top of the pitch. I had studied some the beta and knew it would take a #1 and #2 cam6. When I arrived I took a few minutes to plan my moves as usual. I was getting slightly better at this and felt confident while placing my pro. I downclimbed to a good rest before taking off. Then I made the moves and made it up feeling secure. After a week of uncertainty this was immediately a turning point. There were many pitches left but I felt great. Joe came up and gave me some validation for the send. Up next was the ‘Wavy Crack’, one of the coolest features on the route. I started up and immediately felt secure in the perfect hand crack. To my left was some awesome exposure and I was having a blast romping up the smooth, wavy flake. Near the top was one weird 10 ft section of unprotectable offwidth. I had to use a tagline on my backpack7 to make it up this portion but otherwise it went well. Joe followed and had a little difficulty with the crack. He was great at face climbing and slab which paired perfectly for the top half of the route.

    Hand crack perfection
    Feeling secure on lead

    Up next was a short traverse pitch and it was very easy outside of some route finding diversions. At a small ledge, I’d give the lead back to Joe for the mental crux8 of the route: the “Nervous Nelly” pitch. It went at 5.6 R and had a delicate traverse move high above gear. I was thankful it was not me on lead as Joe struggled to place consistent gear. It was unclear where to go and he searched for a few minutes before eventually finding the crux move. There he placed a reachy, downward foot before finding the glory jug to his right. When I followed it definitely seemed harder and less obvious than I expected. Right after we had a comfy belay below the second mental crux of the route. This time I would lead again and face the ‘Bear Hug’ pitch. It was a unique ~30 ft section of rock with parallel offwidth cracks. We only had a #4 cam so the vast majority of the pitch would be unprotected. Initially I was nervous to lead but when the time came I was excited. After an awkward start I stepped into the crack and was committed. Its possible to stem9 up this feature but I was nervous for any insecurity. Instead I shoved the right side of my body into one of the cracks and inched my way up. At some point the rope got caught around my leg and I had to temporarily squirm out of the offwidth to dislodge it. Otherwise I felt great on the pitch and it wasn’t long until I reached up to a chickenhead10 near the top. There I could sling a secure pinch of rock and sit right on top of the rock fin. I looked down and took in the bottom half of the route with incredible exposure. After this section my leads were done for the day and it was a fantastic feeling.

    Easy 5.5 crack
    Joe leading the ‘Nervous Nelly’ pitch
    Starting up the ‘Bear Hug’ pitch
    Elation
    The view from above

    Joe quickly followed and got to enjoy stemming up the bear hug in comfort. I was happy to sit back and have him take the sharp end to finish off the route afterwards. To our surprise, these next couple pitches were still full value. There was a fairly long section on an exposed and poorly protected arete11. Then there was a short downclimb to another steep but easy pitch. Even the summit had a thoughtful boulder move12 to gain its highest block. This went fairly quickly and we both felt great about the route. Joining us on the summit were two other climbers just finishing on the Southwest Rib. After chatting for a bit we realized they had climbed the descent route on a different trip. Having been scarred from my previous descent I asked to follow them down. They graciously accept and we took our sweet time descending with them on the spire’s South Arete. This portion had some cool moments of exposure before we eventually reached a set of bolted anchors. I choose to rap after our new friends while Joe downclimb the crux sections. These went at 5.6 and made for some excited moments as we watched from below.

    Top of the last pitch
    Summit Selfie
    A guided group descending the South Arete as seen from the Southwest Rib
    Joe’s chimney downclimb

    After we made it back to solid ground we departed from our new friends and headed down. The descent wasn’t bad but I began feeling the weight of the day on my knee. It still wasn’t exactly the same size as my good knee and I was nervous for the following day. Still I made it down okay and we enjoyed a great afternoon in the area. I wasn’t sure how much longer I wanted to continue climbing with my knee still wonky. In theory I had a trail race later in August but I was pretty confident it was not going to happen. Instead Joe and I did some more research in the search for more inspiration. While descending we heard about some big potential routes from our new friends. One in particular called ‘Flyboys’ stuck out to us. It was located in nearby Mazama and was called the ‘tallest 5.9 sport climb’ in the US. The style was almost the exact opposite from what we were used to. Its 18 pitches were bolted almost every 5 feet13. The approach and the descent were both less than a half hour. It would be the perfect reward for weeks of hard earned alpine climbing. That night we drove out to the top of the route after some dinner in town. There was an access road at the top of the cliff where we could stash a car for shuttling. We were stoked to test our skills on something different for once.

    Highway 20 views on the way to Mazama
    Sunset on the Liberty Group
    Flyboys

    The next day we got an easy rise and took my car to the start of the route. Conditions had seemed ideal the previous night but we were blindsided by a huge swath of wildfire smoke. It filled the valley and I was a bit nervous to spend the full day breathing in the clouds. After a few minutes accessing the area we agreed to pull the trigger anyway and began up the approach trail. After 20 minutes or so we found the first few bolts. Immediately it was clear that the route style was vastly different than what we were used to. Bolts were scattered throughout each pitch. Almost every anchor had three next to one another. We laughed at the thought of this style compared to Yosemite. There any unnecessary bolt was almost immediately chopped. On this day I thought it was awesome. For once we didn’t have to worry as much about consequence and just romped up the terrain. I also took quite the backseat for the day. My knee was not 100% and Joe generously agreed to lead almost every pitch.

    A loose and smoky approach

    Turns out I really needed Joe on the lead. I had a lot of experience climbing granite this summer but I was not feeling great on sport. I also had to be quite careful about not touching my right knee to any rock which proved to be very annoying. Joe was a great sport about this and continued to lead pitch after pitch. I admittedly pulled on a few draws14 for the 5.9 pitches while following too. By the halfway point on the route we began to feel pretty tired. Most experienced climbers will simul climb15 a good portion of the route. We opted to link some of the earlier pitches but always had a fixed belay. This slowed us down to about 30 mins or so per pitch. Unlike alpine terrain, the vast majority of the route was between 5.7 and 5.9. Our feet began to hurt, our fingers were raw, and we both weren’t eating enough. We had about 9 pitches to go and the route began to feel like a marathon.

    Joe linking pairs of the initial pitches
    Comfy belay ledge
    Joe crushing the leads

    Although we were gassed on the second half, the climbing was still quite interesting. The clear winner was a 5.9 pitch through a large chimney. It started off with a large, steep flake on a wide portion of the chimney. Then there were a few moves on an overhanging rail16. I saw Joe even get a nice heel hook in before mantling onto the top of the rail to his right17. Then there was a nice rest before stemming up the chimney and popping out into a large flat plateau. I was still out of energy but was psyched to get on the pitch. I did take at least one rest on the rope but otherwise managed to send it somewhat good style. Outside of the chimney there were a handful of other good pitches. The cliff was quite wide and oftentimes the route would intentionally wind one way or another to pitch a region with good exposure or with some unique feature.

    Joe at the chimney pitch, right below the steep flake
    Following up the chimney

    Soon enough we were within a few pitches of the summit. Both of us were quite exhausted. My knee and fingers were hurting and I could tell it was hard for Joe to lead. The final pitch had some stout 5.9 moves and we transitioned at the belay without exchanging many words. Eventually Joe looked back from the summit having found the final anchors. I was relieved and followed through with the help of some quick draws. Below us was the valley far below filled with smoke. We took a short break at the top to take it all in. Then we were back on our way to the car. It was only 20 minutes away but this still felt quite long at the time. I could not have imagined descending a route this large otherwise. When we did finally make it to the car we immediately chugged a liter of water and ate some quick carbs. Then we headed straight for the Mazama Public House for some well deserved beers. For me this was the obvious end to the trip. I was exhausted and knew that I needed more rest to heal up. It was a little sad leaving Washington knowing that we had some objectives left unticked. But if anything our last pursuit was a tad greedy. I could have gone straight back to California after the rockfall. Instead I wanted to see what was possible and was committed to following through. I have no regrets to this day.

    The last pitch
    Saying hi to the locals on the way down
    1. ‘Couloir’ – steep snow gully ↩︎
    2. ‘Supertopo’ – popular climbing guidebook ↩︎
    3. Near vertical climbing on cracks about the size of one’s hands ↩︎
    4. Runout refers to climbing with little protection on any type of terrain. Slabs are smooth and low angle terrain while offwidths are cracks larger than one’s hand or fist ↩︎
    5. ‘Send in good style’ – controlled climbing without any falls ↩︎
    6. Climbing protection for cracks between 1-2″ ↩︎
    7. Taglines are used to haul gear or a backpack below if they get in the way of climbing in tight areas ↩︎
    8. ‘Mental Crux’ – easier climbing but with the highest consequence for a fall ↩︎
    9. ‘Stem’ – climbing by pushing one’s arms and legs between two opposing walls ↩︎
    10. ‘Chickenhead’ – a unique protrusion from a rock wall that resembles a chickenhead and provides good grip ↩︎
    11. ‘Arete’ – A corner, in this case it was more like a steep ridgeline or fin ↩︎
    12. Thoughtful boulder move implies a very short but committing sequence of climbing ↩︎
    13. Bolted sport climbs provide much better protection than traditional alpine routes ↩︎
    14. Pulling on draws refers to using climbing gear and bolts as holds instead of the rock itself. Generally this invalidates ‘free climbing’ and is ‘bad style’ for sport climbing ↩︎
    15. ‘Simul Climbing’ – Climbing together and without a fixed belay. Trades safety for speed ↩︎
    16. Steeper than vertical section of rock with good holds ↩︎
    17. More jargon ↩︎

  • Exploring the Cascades – ’26 Summer Climbing

    Exploring the Cascades – ’26 Summer Climbing

    I began my 14 hour drive North on a calm Monday morning. I was a little nervous to leave my apartment in the pursuit of climbing for an unknown duration of time. I tried not to think about it as I passed through the city and into Marin. My goal that first day was to drive as long as I possibly could. First came Shasta along highway 5. Then came the golden rolling hills as I crossed into Oregon. I listened to music, books, and podcasts. Time began to fade away as I eventually pulled into a Tacoma truck stop just south of Seattle. Next I had to make it to my friend’s place in Bellingham, just about two and a half hours north. The following three weeks would be some of the craziest set of climbing and mountain adventures I would ever experience. For now I only thought one day ahead. We’d be climbing the Easton glacier on Mt. Baker. My alarm would be set for 11:45 pm on that next Evening.

    Mt. Baker’s Easton Glacier

    Late on Tuesday morning I finally met my friends Meredith and Ryan at their house in Bellingham. For me this place felt like a paradise. Bellingham is 15 mins from the Washington-Canada border and sits in a mecca of mountain sports. There is plentiful opportunities for climbing, skiing, trail running, and mountain biking in all directions. I had stayed here the year prior to organize a group ski mountaineering trip on the Mt. Baker’s Coleman glacier. This time around we’d be heading to the Eastern most glacier for a single day summit push on foot. Normally I’d love to ski this volcano, but that would have to come another time. After a nice afternoon in town, I drove out to the trailhead and fell asleep by a comfortable 6pm. I woke up in the evening, we cruised the route, and made it back by 1pm. (The full story is here). But this was just the beginning of the trip and I had time left in the day for one last push. I got in my Tacoma and got back on the road towards the Canadian border. By that Wednesday Evening, I had made it to Squamish, BC. This felt like the real start to the trip and I had planned to meet friends for a long weekend of hard granite climbing.

    Stawamus Chief

    That first night I hung out at the crag1 and planned the next day. I’d stay at the Stawamus Chief campground, the epicenter of Canadian dirtbag climbing. My friend Shannon was working but had another friend in need of a partner. When I woke up that next morning I was greeted with my first real view of the area. Stawamus Chief is an iconic granite monolith nested far into the Howe Sound on the Pacific Coast. Our first couple routes sat on the ‘Papoose Rock’ and granted us incredible views of the cliffs and water below. In contrast to the typical Sierra route, Squamish immediately seemed to have vastly better infrastructure. The approaches to our route was well marked and the climb itself had well placed anchors. After a long morning, Stacy and I had made it up 5 pitches worth of easy crack and slab2. I was able to send all the slab clean on top rope, but I still couldn’t really picture making it up 5.9 on lead3. Regardless the morning routes were a great start to the trip and before long we met back at the campsite for round 2. I’d meet more of Shannon’s friends at the Campground wall for more cragging.

    First day of climbing on Papoose Rock in Squamish

    Quickly I learned that nearly every climber at this campsite was leagues better than me. Most had the goal of making their way through the ‘100 classic climbs’ of the most popular Squamish guidebook. To their credit these were all spectacular routes and outlined a clear progression for the area. Two of these classics were at the campground wall and they were both mid 5.10 cracks. I was out of my comfort zone both for top rope climbing and lead belaying. I was pretty confident Shannon could whip on the first 5.10c finger crack4 and I desperately tried to manage slack accordingly. Halfway up the crux she took a tiny whipper and I definitely had a hard catch. Thankfully she was still stoked to finish the route and I got the opportunity to follow after. On my turn I definitely struggled in at least two sections. But surprisingly the steepest finger crack portion wasn’t as bad as I was expecting. With a little more practice I could see myself sending it clean on top rope. It was still a far cry from lead, but I knew this kind of cragging could definitely lead to a fast progression.

    Stawamus Chief in fog

    That night we went to town for an impromptu open mic night. It was a great time and made me already wish I could stay out in Squamish longer. The next morning I’d have the campsite to myself and felt like I needed to explore more. After running Mt. Dana the week prior I had my eyes set on another vertical kilometer5 push. Luckily for me Squamish had a classic trail climb that began right at the campsite. The ‘Skatshn’ aka ‘The Climb’ is a direct 2,800 ft climb up to the Sea to Sky Gondola. I started up the trail mid morning and was immediately in for a treat. First up was about a 1000 ft of stairs before cutting right towards the lift line. Then the route continued vertically and was interspersed with via ferratas and fixed rope. I had to meet another friend later in the afternoon for more cragging and felt the pressure to move quickly. But navigation turned out to be a challenge and before long I felt like I was trudging through the woods without any direction. Regardless I pushed on relentlessly and managed to summit right around the hour mark. A clean vertical kilometer would still elude me and I made the decision to retrace my steps back to the trailhead. Descending this trail was a nightmare. It was comically steep for a trail run descent and I frequently had to downclimb stretchy sections of fixed line. By the time I made it back to camp, nearly two hours had passed. I caught my breath and met my new friend Ellen just as she was finishing up work for the day. Next up we’d head back out to the crag for yet another round of classic climbs.

    Due to the lack of photos, here is a good shot of parasailers off the cheif

    That afternoon we’d get in three awesome routes. I was first up and chose to lead an easy 5.7 hand crack over in Smoke Bluffs. This area was wild and had some of the most densely packed, single pitch, and roadside routes I had ever seen. No wonder it was considered Canada’s most popular crag. Weather was perfect and I sent the route with little issue. I could definitely tell that I was becoming more comfortable on granite and had not quite found my limit. Soon enough I’d get my opportunity as Ellen directed us to the next zone with harder terrain. She would put up two more 5.10- cracks. The first was another 100 classic called ‘Flying Circus’ and reminded me of Church Bowl Tree in Yosemite. Ellen lead its tricky and delicate crux with just one whip6 at the top. This time I was prepared and thankfully gave a nice, soft catch. On my turn I felt way more comfortable than normal and managed to get a truly clean send. I was beginning to feel that vertical finger cracks was my most comfortable style. But next up was quite the opposite. Ellen would send our third 100 classic of the day: “Neat and Clean”. This 5.10a felt like a sport climb and had a diverse set of skills. Given there was some nasty fall potential, she took it nice and slow. While following I struggled to match the clean style and hung on the rope quite a few times. I’d have to get better at sport climbing, but that would come another day. For now, I said my goodbyes to Ellen and enjoyed a great night at camp on my own.

    5.7 Hand Crack

    The next day I would be joined by my friend Meredith, who drove up from Bellingham in the morning. Although the vast majority of people in Squamish are there for the climbing, the area had much more to offer. Nearby were tons of world class mountain biking trails like the Garibaldi Highlands and Alice Lake. Meredith had explored this area a ton having lived nearby for a few years. Growing up I’d done a ton of downhill biking and was stoked to rent one for the day. With the help of a Subaru shuttle we made quick laps through the area and made it down the best of the moderate classics. Pseudo-Tsuga and Half Nelson were two highlights and felt like the most incredible flow trails I’d ever ridden. Getting used to the bike took a lap or two, but eventually I was feeling hyped to get on more techy terrain. We wound up doing another two laps on a black diamond called ‘Cakewalk’. This easier black had all that I could ask for: techy downhill, fast singletrack, and crazy wooden features. The first time around I felt pretty intimidated following Meredith and skipped a lot of the harder jumps. But after a few laps I wanted to send the route clean. I jumped off one practice drop on the climb into the lap. Then we made it through Cakewalk once again and I made an effort to hit as many features as I could. One of the bigger drops was a crazy wooden plank with maybe 8 ft of vert over its landing. Meredith took some clips as I made my first attempt. I rode in with good speed but felt terrified going over the lip. I landed but immediately crashed safely to my side. With the knowledge I could survive a fall I immediately hiked back for a second attempt. This time I trusted my gut and rocketed off the edge. I felt like I could count the seconds fly by in the air. This time I kept it together and rode out clean feeling victorious. For my own general safety I probably shouldn’t mountain bike much more in my career but it really is so much fun.

    A practice drop on the bike
    Some of the more casual Cakewalk features

    Meredith and I still had one more day in the area and decided we should get back to the crag. First up we headed back to Smoke Bluffs to check off another 5.7 classic: “Laughing Crack”. Squamish has so many single pitch splitters and this was no exception. I felt super comfortable on lead and it made for a great intro. Below was another top rope and we got two routes in without much effort. Our plan was to meet up with others back at Campsite wall in the afternoon, but first we had to make a mandatory pit stop in town. The world cup finals were going on and we enjoyed a great lunch just in time to see Spain win in the second half. Next up we headed back to camp with a fresh 12 pack to bribe the locals. In a crazy coincidence, my buddy Eli was stationed nearby for the summer. I had climbed with him in Pine Creek earlier that summer and knew there was a chance he’d be in Squamish. Turns out climbing is quite a small community and he was already hanging with the friends I met two days prior. With liquid incentives, him and his buddies agreed to help set up some top ropes for Meredith and myself. We’d climb another 5.10a hand crack and its adjacent 5.11- slab. Maybe it was the beers, but this time around I felt horrible. Meredith cruised the slab but we both struggled up the crack. Regardless it was still a great time and I knew I’d have to come back to join the ranks of the locals.

    A child sending in Smoke Bluffs
    Eli and the boys setting up top ropes

    Sadly it was time to leave. Meredith had work the next day and I was slated to meet my next climbing partner, Joe. After Baker, we had both planned on heading towards the North Cascades for a week of alpine climbing. I was torn leaving because I knew that Squamish was the best way to progress my leading skills. But at the same time I always wanted to get back out to the high alpine. Before then I’d have one more day in Bellingham and spent my time trail running in the area. The next day I’d drive out to highway 20 to meet Joe. Turns out this is quite the spectacular drive. The highway winds through incredibly steep and glaciated mountains. Towards Washington pass, massive granite spires shoot high above the valley below. Our week would start at the Blue Lake Trailhead, just below the Liberty Bell group. We didn’t know much about the area and spent the night studying some of the possible beginner routes. Ultimately we landed on climbing ‘The Beckey Route’ on Liberty Bell and possibly the North Face of Concord Tower if time allowed. These were 5.6 and 5.7 routes, respectively, on the two easiest towers of the group to ascend.

    Highway 20 views
    The Liberty Bell Group
    The Liberty Bell

    Early that next morning we awoke and quickly departed towards the spires. The North Cascades have some spectacular wilderness and it wasn’t long until we spotted some true locals. Two wooly mountain goats calmly blocked our path on trail and we shuffled by in awe. I felt like it was a good omen for the day. Soon after we made it up about 2,000 ft to the start of the route. We were in a large and loose gully between the Liberty Bell and Concord Tower. A few other groups were also climbing that day and we knew we’d have to move quick. I took the first lead and linked the first two pitches. These were pretty easy for the grade and it wasn’t long before I made it up the crux chimney7 to a solid belay. The views from here were spectacular and I was glad to hang out while Joe took the next lead. Besides a short slabby crux we cruised to the summit in one more pitch. We both agreed that the grading here was at least one lower than what we’d experienced in Yosemite. Maybe we could try a little harder that day on new terrain.

    A cascade local
    Joe towards the end of the approach
    At the start of The Becky Route on Liberty Bell
    An incredible belay ledge

    Luckily the descent was straightforward and we made three raps8 back down to our gear. Concord tower was right ahead but two climbers had already started up its easiest North Face route. After some quick discussion, I had a good feeling about the day and made the call to take an alternate route. The direct line to the summit was just right of the North Face and went at 5.8. Technically this would be my hardest lead ever, but I felt comfortable having just climbed a ton of hard routes in Squamish. Starting from the ground, I passed by the first 5.6 pitch and began to link the second crux chimney. Suddenly I knew I had to lock in for a hard lead once again. After a couple of steep moves I came across an awkward bulge. My last cam was at least ten feet below and I knew I had to make the next few feet count. It took me quite a while to place one last cam and plan my sequence of moves. I even pulled on a poor #2 placement9 just to feel that I could make the move above it. Then I committed and managed to climb up towards a better stance. Maybe the Becky Route was easy for 5.6, but this felt like pretty legitimate 5.8. I was psyched but it wasn’t my cleanest lead ever. Luckily there was a perfect hand crack right ahead. Now feeling better I cruised up this section and just made it to a ledge with a few feet of rope to spare. I was absolutely stoked to belay Joe up and see what he thought. Ironically he felt much better on the second half of the route where he could face climb.

    View of the Becky Route from Concord Tower

    Shortly after, Joe lead a short easy 5th pitch to the summit where we met the group climbing ahead of us. Despite my slow crux movement we had at least managed to match their pace up the route. By this time it was still early in the afternoon and Joe wanted his chance at lead glory. We decided the most practical route would be the regular North Face of Concord, now clear of climbers. We quickly rapped to the end of pitch 1 and Joe crushed the 5.7 lead with no issue. In contract to the direct chimney, this pitch weaved through steep and juggy ledges. It was an awesome way to finish the day and we repeated the descent rappels with no issues. In total for the day we made it up 9 pitches of climbing and linked all that we could. We both felt great on the descent and I knew that we were ready for something bigger.

    Joe leading the last pitch of the Direct North Face on Concord Tower
    Climbing up the last pitch of the regular North Face of Concord

    I was wiped when I finally returned to the trailhead. We barely ate anything and I struggled to pay attention while Joe began scheming our next day’s objective. I demanded some sustenance and we decided to drive out towards Twisp. This was an incredibly remote town but at least had some late night bars open that still served food. Over a much deserved dinner, we furiously debated what else we could climb. I had one guidebook for the area but it was pretty much useless for where we were. Really we needed the Washington Pass Supertopo but we were too cheap to buy it online. Instead we studied the free preview and landed on a classic alpine route nearby. Mt. Cutthroat was one of the highest peaks in the area. It’s South Buttress was yet another of Fred Beckey’s first ascents. With 1500 ft of climbing and several 5.8 cruxes, this would really be a test of our skills to date. I felt weary going to sleep in some remote parking lot for the night. It would be a big day ahead and we need to be prepared.

    Mt. Cutthroat from Washington Pass

    We woke up in Twisp and headed directly into town for a quick breakfast. I wanted to feel 100% ready going into this climb. Really I was most worried about the descent. Even the guide claimed this was the most convoluted and sketchy part of the mountain. There were some bolted anchors, but they were hard to find and guarded by the knife edge West Ridge. While downing some coffee I studied as much as I could. Soon enough we were driving back on highway 20 and pulled out towards the Cutthroat trailhead. The ascent was crazy in itself. Over a mile and a half we gained more than 2000 ft on a beautiful grassy hillside. We made quick work of this portion before taking a quick break at the last water refill stream. Above us was a steep and loose gully leading up to the main South Buttress. The first two thirds of the route or so was supposed to be quick easy. The rock wasn’t that steep and most of the difficulty came in the form of route finding. Joe and I did okay on this section. The gully wasn’t too bad, but it took two attempts to gain the main buttress. Once there we also attempted to simul climb. I once again forgot my radio which made this effort nearly impossible. Without good communication and a straightforward route, simul climbing is more like soloing for both parties.

    Joe on the approach below the route
    Loose gully before the start of the route
    A weird hole in the rock right before we gained the buttress

    After a couple hundred feet, we made the good call to just pitch out the rest of the route. Climbing would still be quite quick and we only needed good transitions to keep pace. After another few hundred feet, the climbing began to pick up once again. I was leading everything so far and came across some tricky ledges. Some of the moves seemed insecure, but I felt confident and made steady progress. Eventually I got back to a comfortable ledge and belayed Joe up what I believed to be the first 5.7 crux. Next up Joe took the lead and did a great job leading what was supposed to be the next 5.8 crux. In reality we agreed that both pitches were a little soft and I was pretty psyched to have passed the hardest portions. Then it was my turn once again and I made my way up the ‘sandy pitch’. This was a long section of low angle scree10 that ended the main ‘buttress’ of the route. There was still a couple more pitches of ridgeline to go, but the style would change dramatically. The first feature I came across was a large notch in the ridgeline. This required a short downclimb and I debated setting up a belay. Instead I pushed forward knowing I had rope left to spare. To get out of the notch was yet another crux. According to the topo this was a short 5.7 boulder move11. To me it seemed like an incredibly high step with small crimpy handholds. I mustered up the courage and committed to the move without any gear for protection. For me this was the highlight of the route and I was once again excited to see how Joe fared.

    Myself at the start of the first crux
    A magnificent belay ledge
    Joe on the 2nd crux

    After some heavy rope drag during the belay, Joe caught up and thought the boulder was not too bad. He took the next lead and passed yet another notch. This ended in a few weird slabby moves that I was glad he lead. I made it up quickly and then got ready for our last pitch of the day. The summit was in sight but I had a short section of 5.7 offwidth12 to ascend. It was slightly exposed and Joe did not want to lead it. I played around a bit before committing to the move with an insecure armbar13. Climbing a ton of crack in squamish made me much more confident with feet placement and this was certainly key for the crux ahead. I felt great pulling past this section and finally seeing we made it to the finish line. The summit block was right ahead and I quickly pulled Joe up to the peak. We celebrated with spectacular views of the North Cascades in all directions. Thankfully we even spotted a set of rappel anchors not too far away. All seemed to be going great, but I knew we really were just halfway through the day. From research on the ground the crux of the climb was the descent. I felt good so far and soon enough we began to set up the first rappel.

    The 2nd notch, offwidth crack visible on the top right of the ridge ahead of Joe
    Summit selfie
    Views from the summit of Mt. Cutthroat

    Once I made my way down the rope I spotted the West Ridge ahead. It looked like a massive spine of rock jutting down into the scree slopes below. My apprehension grew as I internally debated how to protect ourselves on the knife edge. For now I focused on finding the next set of anchors. They were not obvious and I had to swing for a few minutes before spotting the glistening bolts. One more rappel later and we unroped for the ridgewalk. The first 100 ft or so were straightforward but then the ridge narrowed to a sharp edge. Joe insisted we put the rope back on and I took the lead out towards the descent. I knew that anchors would be around here somewhere but the search seemed quite futile. Its nearly impossible to set a good sense of scale on a 2D topo and I was not sure how far we needed to travel before cutting south. We simul climbed for another few hundred feet before I spotted a shallow gully to our left. There was a lone tree at the bottom and I felt like it could be a promising descent. The topo14 described something like this but we had no idea if it was correct or not. Eventually I made the call to descend and we built a natural horn anchor15 nearby. I lead the next rap down to the tree and felt pretty unsure about the situation. Below was a massive gully that lead to the scree descent. It really did not seem like the topo but climbing back up would also be a pain. Unsure of either case I then made the second call to descend futher.

    Rappel #1 from the summit
    Joe making his way down the 2nd rappel
    Walking down the start of the knife edge on the West Ridge

    This is when our day began to turn for the worse. As I rappelled off a tree and into the gully, I did not realize I began to step over extremely loose rock. Later I learned this rock consistency is usually described to feel like ‘feta cheese’ or ‘kitty litter’. There is no cohesion and the rock simply disintegrates if anything rubs against it. In my case, the rope was rubbing against this rock. As I dropped into the gully I could hear the scree raining down ahead. Any movement on my end would rain more and more loose rock down towards the gully. To add to the concern, I could not find the next anchor. I moved back and forth hoping to spot another natural horn and knew we were no where near the bolts. Instead I eventually caught the site of old tat16 on a rock across the gully. I moved over towards it and realized my rope would not quite reach. While I thought about what to do next I could hear more and more rocks come my way. All of the sudden a larger group of rocks came barreling down. I looked up and saw them coming towards me in slow motion. I was positioned at the opposite site of the gully but the ridge was high enough above to be of concern. One of these rocks was about the size of a melon and crashed violently in front of me. It shattered into pieces and before I could react I was struck. A softball sized chunk punctured by right kneecap and then cascaded down the slope. I looked down and blood immediately soaked by pants. I tried to stay composed as adrenaline flooded by bloodstream.

    Simulclimbing on the West Ridge before the loose rappels
    Looking back up at the West Ridge after the 3rd rappel

    Slowly I got my footing, unroped carefully, and tied into the tat across a small ledge. I got out my spare cord and backed up the anchor. I could feel some pain but was only focused on getting back to a safe anchor. Joe was up next and I was terrified he would be hit too. It took him a while but eventually he joined me at the next rock. Below was several hundred feet more of steep and loose rock. Neither of us wanted to downclimb but I really did not see any anchors left. Regardless I continued to lead onward and into the unknown. I came to the end of the rope and felt like I was out of luck. To my left was a set of somewhat solid rock with numerous cracks. Otherwise there were no more obvious spot for slings. I took out my rack and placed three bomber cams for a temporary anchor17. While Joe came down I played around with a handful of nut placements. Eventually I equalized two decent pieces and tied into the new anchor. With Joe as my witness I jumped back as hard as I could to test their strength. I still had the cam anchor as a backup and we agreed it was the best we were going to get. Nervously I got back on the rope and continued to rappel further down. After being struck with rockfall we made a great effort to protect ourselves from any natural drainages or loose rock moving forward. I was extremely on edge but tried my best to stay cool. I’m sure Joe was feeling the heat too and he did a great job of remaining calm.

    Making my way down the loose gully for our 5th rappel

    Finally I got to a point where I felt safe descending the scree. I took refuge behind a large rock wall while Joe followed me down the rope. My knee was surprisingly okay for now. There was still a lot of blood running down my leg but my pants were not very ripped. I could still bend my knee nearly all the way with only a little bit of pain. Below us was probably 2,500 or so feet of descent. We were mostly in the clear and I felt pretty overwhelmed with the experience. Joe graciously handled the rope while I continued down the scree. Thankfully the loose rock here is pretty easy on the knees and after a while we made it to the last ledge. In front of us was one last tree anchor and it made for our 7th rap of the day. When I finally reached the talus at the bottom I felt another wave of relief. I saw the stream at the bottom of the gully where we first started our ascent. All that was left was to retrace our steps down another 2,000 ft. In theory we were supposed to meet our friends for dinner. Instead our time descending took nearly 6 hours and we reached the car close to 10 pm.

    Our 6th rappel anchor, 2 okay nuts
    Making my way down a 1,000 ft of scree
    Great sunset to lift the spirits

    My knee was still functional but I could tell this would not last long. The swelling began and it was getting more and more stiff by the minute. I desperately wanted to get out of there and reach civilization once again. Reluctantly we both got in our cars and began the long drive back to Bellingham. With the help of cold AC and loud music, Joe and I stumbled back into town. The only place we could find serving food was a small Russian dumpling spot across from the bars in town. We both looked like we came back from war. My knee was now bandaged and leaking blood. It was swelling quickly and was probably the size of a large orange at this point. I gulped down as many dumplings as I possibly could and we laughed at the insanity of our day. It was not the end I wanted but I was glad to have made it out. We learned some crucial lessons about the alpine. We did the best with the tools we had that day. For now my focus shifted to recovery. I would do my best to heal up quickly and get back out there.

    A poorly bandaged knee while eating Russian dumplings
    1. ‘Crag’ – Location for climbing, usually single pitch ↩︎
    2. Crack and slab are two styles of climbing common for granite rock ↩︎
    3. Climbing 5.9 slab on lead is much more tricky than top rope due to the fall potential. It would not be pleasent ↩︎
    4. Finger crack is a size of crack climbing where only fingers can fit ↩︎
    5. Referring to a vertical kilometer or ~3,000 ft of gain over a trail run ↩︎
    6. ‘Whip’ – fall on lead ↩︎
    7. Chimneys are a common rock feature resembling a chimney but with 3 sides. Sort of like a gully. ↩︎
    8. ‘Raps’ – A rappel, or descent on rope from an anchor ↩︎
    9. #2 is a size of cam approximately 2″ wide ↩︎
    10. ‘Scree’ – Small, gravel like rock ↩︎
    11. A boulder move is a short section of climbing that usually is more tricky than the surrounding section ↩︎
    12. ‘Offwidth’ – A crack that is larger than one’s hand, generally >3″ ↩︎
    13. Armbars are used for offwidth climbing ↩︎
    14. ‘Topo’ – Climbing map ↩︎
    15. An anchor used for rappeling can be made by slinging a single use rope or piece of webbing on a natural rock feature. Most commonly these are on a rock ‘horn’, a small spike that can hold weight ↩︎
    16. ‘Tat’ – Single use webbing or cord used for natural anchors ↩︎
    17. Three cams are much more solid of an anchor, but would be expensive to leave on the mountain ↩︎
  • July in the Sierra – ’26 Summer Climbing

    July in the Sierra – ’26 Summer Climbing

    After a crazy week of climbing, it was time for a well deserved week off. I finally got some time back in San Francisco and it felt great. I would still be taking off work through the end of the summer and it was easy to fill the empty time. I finally caught up on sleep, saw friends in the city, and took care of my home. Still I was hungry to get back after it. Up next was a plan to travel outside of California for the first time in the year. My buddy Joe wanted to make a trip out to the Cascades since the beginning of the year and it was nearly time to pull the trigger. We’d drive up the 2nd week of July and stay there as long as we still had energy to climb. But for now I still had another week of California climbing in me. Soon enough I was back on highway 120 headed straight for the valley.

    Half Dome as seen from Olmstead Point

    Unlike the week prior, this visit to Yosemite took off with a rocky start. Shyvonne and I had arrived to Curry Village late on a Thursday night. Our plan was to climb a classic and long beginner route called ‘Royal Arches’. It was nearly 15 pitches of climbing and went at a grade of 5.7. She had climbed it in the past but it still required an early start and consistent execution. Instead I took my time waking up and left my radio in the car (this has become a somewhat common conundrum). We did eventually rope up by 7 am or so. Shortly after we lead a pitch each but it was slow and awkward. There are just some days where climbing doesn’t feel quite right. On those days you don’t want to climb 1500 ft of terrain at your limit. So we made the obvious choice at the time to head back and enjoy the warm July weather in the valley instead. Luckily we also brought some inner tubes and floated down the Merced river as a backup afternoon treat.

    Leading up pitch 2 of Royal Arches

    After another night in the Curry Village parking lot we had just enough time in the morning for one last excursion. Later that day I would meet a friend of mine for some bigger alpine objectives in the Sierra. For now we headed back towards the Ahwahnee Lodge for a classic single pitch crack. ‘Church Bowl Tree’ is a 5.10- finger crack and normally would be a much more difficult lead than either of us could handle. But Shyvonne wanted to show off some of her aid climbing skills and set off to put me on top rope. I sat at the belay and made sure to carefully watch for any sudden falls. Similarly to many of the valley moderate cracks, this route was known for its polished rock and flared pin scars. For many of the placements, Shyvonne only managed to get half of the cam lobes to engage. Thankfully it didn’t matter and before long she had made it to the chains unscathed. Next up was my turn and I had lots of gear to clean. I also didn’t have much experience with finger cracks going into the climb. But surely enough I began to feel a good rhythm. I felt pretty secure locking in my fingers and the so-called ‘greased up’ footholds weren’t that bad either. Outside of a short hang on the rope to dislodge a particularly stuck cam, I wound up sending the rest of the route. According to the Yosemite locals, climbing 5.10- onsight and on lead was bare minimum for one day leading the Nose on El Capitan. When I first heard this it seemed pretty impossible. Even now that seems pretty impossible. But sending this climb (even with an asterix) made this far fetched goal seem just slightly more doable for the aspiring amateur.

    Top Rope on ‘Church Bowl Tree’

    Later that morning I made my goodbyes and began the journey towards my next adventure for the weekend. Funny enough it also happened to be the Fourth of July. Growing up I used to spend almost all my Fourth of July’s at my home Lake in New Jersey. This year I’d travel out to Twin Lakes in Bridgeport, CA to celebrate. These lakes sit in an alpine haven beneath the Sawtooth range. The prior season my buddies and I traveled to this basin for some incredible spring skiing. This time around my climbing partner Michael from earlier in the summer would join me for a more bold objective. Our idea was to climb the North Arete of Matterhorn Peak (not to be confused with its more striking Swiss sibling). This was a remote and stiking route that could be seen from highway 395 many miles away. We’d hike in with overnight gear later in the day before making our push to the route early in the morning. For now I enjoyed the holiday festivities and hung out at the lake. It was too hot to hike in the summer sun and luckily there was a rope swing for me to pass the time.

    By 5pm we began the long hike out to camp. It was approximately 6 miles and 3k ft of gain. If this were trail running it would be no problem, but on our backs were two tents, a full trad rack, and a 70 m rope. Michael and I made slow and steady progress up the well established trail. The views along the way were spectacular and Matterhorn Peak was especially striking. It sat far back in the drainage and we’d be camping at an incredible alpine lake below it. Before making the final push we took a long break at a stream in the valley. The next couple miles were mostly off trail and we knew it would have to be a big push to get enough sleep for the next day. We pushed on and suffered through some bushwhacking and talus hopping as usual. By the time we made it to our planned lake it was just getting dark. Still there was enough light for a quick backpack dinner and it wasn’t long before we crashed into our tents.

    View looking back towards the Twin Lakes trailhead
    Michael on the approach with Matternhorn Peak in the distance
    Horse Creek Peak, skied the rightmost snowpatch last spring
    One of the better campsites I’ve been a part of

    We awoke at first light and took in our surroundings with a new perspective. The lake was absolutely gorgeous and was surrounded by a cathedral of granite rock spires. Our tents were right at the lake edge, making for a perfect water refill station. Ahead of us was another 1500 ft approach to the start of the climb and we quickly got on our way. First up was some boulder hopping up a streambed and we made quick progress. I only took a daypack and the rope, making for a much easier climb than the day prior. Shortly after we reached the first minor crux: a massive glacier sitting below the peak. We did bring crampons and a single ice axe in case this section was too filled in. But after scoping the approach the previous day we decided to leave these tools at the campground. Michael was a bit nervous for this decision, but I felt pretty confident in soft summer snow and knew it would go. Crossing the glacier was pretty surreal. There are not many areas left in the Sierras that have ice left all year round. It required us to be mindful of holes and bergschrunds but otherwise felt just like a spring snowfield with little issue. Soon we were back on rock and began to climb another few hundred feet on loose rock.

    The start of the approach on day 2
    Crossing the glacier
    Studying that topo

    Michael was feeling pretty worked but we eventually reached the start of the route. In total there were 6 pitches, two of which were graded 5.7. Our plan was to split this into two blocks. I would lead the first half and Michael the second. The first pitch was pretty easy and I felt like it was a great warmup for the day. I knew the real crux was up ahead: a short section of 5.7. The route wasn’t obvious and I knew that I could easily find myself in trouble if I strayed too far from the intended line. 5.7 was the limit of what I could comfortably lead, especially in the high alpine. I took one last look at the topo from the start of pitch two and then set off. First up was an awkward 5.4 offwidth. I put in a low #3 cam and planned out the route. Michael was waiting below and I wanted to keep everything as quick and clean as possible. I committed to the move and felt great going up. Although I was pretty sure I was on route it was incredibly difficult to tell for sure. Soon enough I stumbled upon another crux. This time it was much more uncertain. There was a 20 ft section that was pretty vertical. I could see a ledge above it an decided it looked like the most correct path ahead. When I pulled the first move I was somewhat committed. The holds were insecure and I only managed to get one bad cam placement in. All of the sudden I pulled two or three more moves and now was high above my last piece. Before the ledge ahead there was a slight vertical bulge on loose rock. The hand and footholds were small and non-obvious. I carefully tested each rock and slowly mustered the courage to move forward. It is one of those times were execution really mattered. Before the final push I found a hidden nut that I half trusted. Then it was time. I held my breath and trusted my sequence. I felt a sudden sense of relief and made it up more easily than I expected. Thank god.

    Michael on the start of ‘pitch 4’

    I got to the belay and started pulling Michael up on top rope. To my surprise he also had a tough time making his way up the loose section and I began to wonder if we really were making our way up the right path. Looking at the topo it seemed like I had linked at least some of the first three pitches together. Michael agreed to take a stab at his block of climbing and headed up for the start of what seemed to be pitch 4. Instead he quickly ran out of easy climbing. Not knowing exactly where we were, Michael decided to pull me up to his stance and we studied the topo once more. Together we decided to move further right and would have to downclimb a short section of rock. This was new for me and I insisted on taking the lead for better protection. But this is where things started to go wrong. I didn’t place any gear while Michael followed and he wasn’t happy. The climbing wasn’t crazy hard but without this gear downclimbing had a heavy consequence for falling. Thankfully he was a good sport about this and I now knew what to do in the future.

    Michael leading the crux offwidth corner

    The next two pitches were great. Finally we were back on route and ready for the final crux pitches. Michael wanted these leads and for a good reason. The last 5.7 pitch followed an offwidth corner in a striking location. We would be on the North Arete of the peak which stood prominently from the highway so far away. Starting from the base it was a rope stretcher and Michael cruised up with ease. I followed after and finally felt like we got the full value of the route which had eluded us so far. After 7 ish miles and 5,000 ft of gain we managed to get a couple truly cool pitches of climbing in. At the top we could see the whole sawtooth range and the broad expanse of mountains behind it. We still had maybe 300 ft to go but it was all a traverse around 3rd to 4th class terrain. We quickly passed this section in two hasty pitches before getting to the summit proper around 4pm in the afternoon. Michael and I were stoked at the top and took a pause to admire the view.

    Climbing up the crux pitch on top rope
    Michael leading the last vertical pitch
    Traversing across the summit ridge
    Summit selfie

    Next up was the huge descent back to the Twin Lakes trailhead. I was somewhat concerned about the descent gully, which could have some tricky snow patches originally out of view. Instead we were gifted with a relatively easy descent. There was only a 20 ft or so section of snow for an otherwise dry gully. This meant I was right for the most part on our choice not to bring crampons and axes. Before long we crossed the glacier once last time and retraced our steps back to camp. On the ascent Michael was clearly having a tough climb but this all changed as we trotted down the descent. We were both stoked to have completed our objective in relatively good style. Outside of some route finding trouble and the downclimbing incident we sent all the pitches clean. The trail back was long but I felt pretty good about the experience. Soon enough we were back to the cars and swapping photos of the last two days. After the adventure we’d split off for the last time that summer and I would of course make it back to Lee Vining for the night. As a treat, I once again got myself a tall boy and enjoyed a spectacular sunset at the nearby hot spring. What an awesome adventure.

    Last rope coil
    The incredible Sierra backcountry
    Success
    Descent back to the trailhead

    It wasn’t long before I was due to drive out to the Cascades and I made the choice to hang out in the Sierras in the meantime. I really did not have much planned for that week and took the opportunity to explore the area on my own. The next day I slept in until mid afternoon while enjoying the view from my truck in Lee Vining. The town is small but I’ve come to love the area as a homebase when away from the city. After a quick lunch I was inspired and headed back to Tioga pass for a solo adventure. My goal was to get a good workout and explore a new peak in the area. Earlier in June, my buddy Joe climbed the Dana couloir and I wanted to scope out the trailhead. The peak was just over 13,000 ft and loomed over Tuolumne Meadows. My idea was to run up its pedestrian trail two or three times. I packed a bunch of snacks in my truck and used it as a pitstop between laps. From the peak of Tioga Pass it was just below 3,000 ft gain to the summit.

    Travertine Hot Springs
    Mt. Dana from Tioga Pass

    For me this was the perfect training ground. I started up and immediately felt the effect of the vert and altitude. The trail was steep and technical. I powered through and did my best to maintain a consistent pace. Finally I reached the summit for the first time in just over an hour. I passed some hikers and raced back down. During the descent I was terrified. I had to hop precariously down loose talus and a barely recognizable trail. Slowly it transitioned back into steep scree and then steep dirt. I made it back to the truck in about 40 mins. I quickly refueled and set back out for lap two. This time the ascent hurt. I was only a couple minutes slower but was in much more pain keeping pace at the end. I passed a few of the same hikers from my first lap and tried not to impede. Finally it was time to descend once again and I decided that was all I could handle for the day. I raced back down and just barely made the second lap for a total time of 3 hours and 27 minutes. I felt completely worked but it was such a fun effort. I would have to go back for a proper time trial.

    Great views from Mt. Dana summit
    Great workouts deserve great recovery

    The next day I did actually rest and explored more of Mono Lake. I knew I had to meet Shyvonne for the last time in Yosemite the next day. Our plan was to repeat our attempt of Snake Dike and to finish off the weekend in Tuolumne once again. It would be another action packed week but I felt better than ever after coming back from Matterhorn Peak. And so before I knew it we were back at the Happy Isles trailhead for a trek on the Mist Trail. As much as I would like to outline the experience, it unfortunately did not go our way. Snake Dike is an intimidating and consequential route. One day I will climb it but we were foiled by circumstance once again. Instead we enjoyed a relaxing afternoon in Little Yosemite Valley after camping out there the night prior. Luckily for us I still had two more days free before heading to Washington. The weather was absolutely perfect for Tuolumne and we enjoyed some great days out there climbing more easy terrain.

    Mono Lake views
    Vernal Falls
    Pretending that I can solo Snake Dike

    For the most part Tuolumne climbing for beginners is terrifying. The vast majority of easy terrain has little to no protection. It’s difficult to find any slab that is bolted outside of anchors. The approach and descents are often on ‘4th class’ slab that feels quite intimidating. Regardless we managed to find two easy climbs to suite our introductory status. The first day I lead ‘Hermaphrodite Flake’ on Stately Pleasure Dome. It was a super cool climb on a massive and seemingly unattached flake. It also allowed us to top rope some harder slab nearby and this made for great practice. Afterwards I even made my time trail attempt on Mt. Dana and gave it my all. Even with some route findings snags I was able to pull off a sub 1:30 round trip for a 4th place finish on the high peak. The following day was our last and we spent the morning back at Lambert Dome. There we climbed the easy ‘NW Books’ route and it was such a cruiser compared to the nearby slabs. I knew I’d have to leave for new mountains soon after but it was such a treat to end on a high note. We even saw Alex Honnold with family back at the trailhead and admired from a distance. Later that afternoon I would drive back to San Francisco for the last time that July. I’d have one day to rest before making the big trek out to the Cascades. The whole summer I had been working up to this trip and I was more excited than ever. It was time to put my skills to the test.

    Shyvonne following on Hermaphrodite Flake
    Simul Rapping down to ‘Footprints’
    Belaying at the top of Lambert Dome

  • Life on the East Side – ’26 Summer Climbing

    Life on the East Side – ’26 Summer Climbing

    As June began I made a distinct shift in my unemployment journey. I knew I had financial runway to make it through the whole summer on my own terms. It was time to commit to climbing adventures while I could. To kick it off I messaged all the partners I knew in the area. I even pinged others for the first time on the Mountain Project ‘partner finder’ forums. Soon enough I had my plate full and began a quest out to the mountains in my camper Tacoma. It was my second time spending a full week out in the Sierra and this time I was more prepared. I had tons of meals, fuel, and gear prepared for just about any adventure or time away from home. Before I knew it I was off and headed to a familiar place. I would be meeting a group of friends, some new and some old. Our plan began back at Echo Lakes trailhead and would take us deep into Desolation Wilderness for a traverse across the Crystal Range. Climbing was not very technical, but would still be long day in the mountain to get our group acquainted with future missions together.

    View of Lake Tahoe from the Echo Lake Trailhead
    Sunrise on Echo Lake

    We started off at sunrise and headed across Echo Lake for the first few miles. Three miles in we reached the Desolation Wilderness boundary that I had nearly hiked too a few weeks prior. This time instead of a casual 5 mile morning hike we would loop around a 2 mile long ridgeline that started 5 miles into the backcountry. I felt prepared and soon enough we could see the magnificent Aloha Lake in front of us. Before any serious elevation gain we’d traverse the lower section of this lake towards Pyramid Peak. The lake was formed as a glacial basin and had countless water filled depressions uniformly spaced in longitudinal streaks like focaccia bread. This made for some fun route-finding as we snaked through the smooth granite bumps before the large talus slope of the mountain ahead. Nearing the end of the traverse we stopped for our last water refill before the traverse. The first peak was very straightforward scrambling and we all felt great getting to romp up some easy terrain. I made it up to the peak first and got a view of the massive ridgeline ahead. For the most part it was class 2 and 3 terrain with few interspersed moments of exposure. However some of the group were a tad behind getting up to the first summit so we huddled together for a decision on commitment.

    Our first view of the Crystal Range in its entirety
    A fun route across Lake Aloha’s scalloped basin
    Low angle slabs below Pyramid Peak
    The Crystal Range looking North from Pyramid Peak
    Joe near the crux of the route and looking back at Pyramid Peak

    For two members of the group, this would be their first experience on exposed 4th class terrain. We had lots of elevation and more than a dozen miles left, so it was our first real consequential decision to make as a team. Thankfully we opted to keep moving and headed towards the first crux. The next peak had a small 30 ft or so step in the ridgeline with steeper and exposed terrain to warrant the 4th class rating. In reality it was a sort of ‘choose your own adventure’ climb where the path of least resistance was more like 3rd. My buddy Joe and I scoped ahead and guided the rest of the group through this step without any major issue. For the first time in a while I felt like I was overly prepared for this type of adventure and took in the fun by taking a harder route up. Regardless we were rewarded by some more fantastic views and kept on traversing the ridgeline. The rest of the ridge up to Agassiz had some exciting moments but was mostly talus hopping as usual. Route finding was pretty straightforward and we eventually summited the peak to find more amazing views. Agassiz had this crazy wave-like summit block that overhung the snow slopes below it in dramatic fashion. We all took turns peering over the peak to experience the stomach-turning feeling of the exposure.

    Incredible Lake Aloha views

    Before long we kept on going and eventually made it to the last peak, Mt. Pierce, in a little over two hours after our summit of Pyramid at the start of the ridgeline. I was feeling pretty tired at this point and knew the rest of the group was on the same boat. After a quick snack break we then took a look at the descent. In a classic fashion this would quickly become the real crux of the day. There were massive snow slopes below us and we didn’t really know if it was possible to glissade without any snow travel gear. The downclimbing was also more sketchy than I expected so when we arrived at the large moat separating us from the snow I was on edge. Thankfully Joe made the leap of faith and I was quickly reassured that it was safe to descend. My spirits then skyrocketed as we plunge stepped and ran down the snow slopes with ease. My initial expectation of a sketchy descent on mostly rock transformed into sticking with the snow for as long as possible. This worked for a little over a 1000 ft before we got back on 3rd class slabs towards Mosquito Pass on the opposite side of the lake. I was still feeling okay but we had nearly 11 miles to go towards the trailhead at the start of the day. For now we could take in the phenomenal views of Lake Aloha and the entire Crystal Range that stood magnificently above it.

    The overhanging summit block of Mt. Agassiz
    Looking back at the overhanging Mt. Agassiz wave
    A view of the incredible Lake Aloha from Mt. Price
    An epic glissade down 1000 ft of snow

    Skipping ahead about 3 hours or so and we finally made it back to the trailhead with light to spare. In total we traveled about 21 miles and the last few felt pretty terrible. At least we cruised through the traverse and even learned a thing or two about spring snowfield descents on the way. Our group did pretty well and I was excited to keep it going with more alpine trips later in the summer. Sadly that would be our last night as a group for a while and I was scheduled for my next adventure further south. I met some partners on mountain project and had some ambitious alpine objectives picked out on Temple Crag. I was feeling pretty good from the last few weeks of climbing and knew I could probably lead most 5.6 routes in the Sierra. Despite being the same age, my Partner Michael had a very different skillset coming into our objective for the week. He had been climbing in the Sierras for nearly a decade and had ticked off nearly all the moderate classics of the area. While I was starting to feel confident in moderate terrain, I really did not have a good understanding of my following skills or general comfort in committing terrain. Either way I knew I wanted to see what I could bring to the table and met Michael in Pine Creek for an afternoon of cragging.

    One more Lake view
    The Crystal Range seen while hiking back from Mosquito Pass
    Whitney Portal’s incredible El Segundo and Premier Buttresses
    The magnificent Pine Creek Canyon

    Pine Creek turned out to be a hidden alpine haven slightly north of Bishop. It’s old mining access road shoots high up into the drainage north of Mt. Tom and borders a wall of granite towards Rock Creek. I hung out near Michael and his partner while they climbed a classic 10b at the entrance to Scheelite canyon. Our plan the next day would be to begin the trek out to 3rd lake beneath North Palisades’ drainage in anticipation to climb the Moon Goddess Arete on Temple Crag. I felt pretty nervous as the climb had nearly 2000 ft of technical terrain up to 5.8. I had experience on 5.8 sport routes, but hadn’t followed this grade in the alpine. The plan was to meet Michael the next morning in Big Pine right outside the access road. I spent the morning studying the route and resting in town before we drove out later in the afternoon when temps cooled down. We packed our bags and then had one last discussion of the route. Michael was nervous about the approach, it was still very snowy and some hikers coming back to the trailhead confirm this with photos. I was nervous about performing while committed to technical terrain. With a full day of approaching with overnight bags at stake, we made the tough choice to bail and head back into town for a different objective. This was the second time I’ve bailed from a big alpine route in the same month and it made me feel horrible this go around. In retrospect it was definitely the right call, but in the moment I was both relieved and devastated. Temple Crag is not going anywhere and I am still determined to make it back there on my own terms.

    Eli and Michael sending in Pine Creek

    Despite the rough start, Michael and I made up for the retreat with a trip to Lone Pine to crag at Alabama Hills. This Joshua-Tree-like area is an iconic destination in itself and sits below the thrown of Mt. Whitney. Our plan was to climb some 5.9 routes that night and then head over to the Mt. Whitney Portal the next day for some bigger objectives. In contrast to the typical alpine route, this crag was exceptionally easy to access. We parked less than 20 ft from our first route, which started adjacent to the lot and had clear bolted anchors at the end of its first pitch. I knew I’d need to climb a lot more on terrain like this if I wanted to progress to bigger terrain in the alpine one day. The first route started off with a delicate slab before joining a crack system to its anchors. Michael led it clean after some retreating initially at the very beginning. I also struggled on this section before cruising to the finish feeling that I could make it up 5.9 terrain with enough effort. Next up was a two pitch 5.7 on a slab one rock outcropping over. Michael easily led the first pitch and then it was my turn to give it a go. In contrast to the last route, this pitch was bolted and I was really motivated to send it clean. In reality I was still pretty nervous and out of my usual headspace. It took me forever to inch my way up the slab and I couldn’t really trust my feet on lead. By the time we made it up to the 2nd anchors it was getting dark and I felt pretty glad we weren’t headed up to Temple Crag. Rappelling down went even worse and I fumbled clean technique on the second set of anchors halfway down. Despite the poor performance I knew this was probably the best thing for me. I wanted to dial in my experience with climbing at the crag, improving my rappelling skills, and generally increasing my comfort on new terrain.

    Roadside cragging1 in Alabama Hills
    Michael leading on gear in Alabama Hills
    Lone Pine Peak and Whitney seen from Alabama Hills

    Luckily Michael was a good partner and picked up the slack where I needed it. We met the next morning at the Mt. Whitney portal ready to tackle something more committing. Our approach up to the El Segundo Buttress was long and consisted of loose scree the whole way up. The goal was to climb the Becky Route, a five pitch route up the buttress with several 5.8 pitches and a 5.9 roof crack crux. It would be a challenge for me to follow and a great test of our skills in semi alpine terrain. Michael would lead everything and I would do my best to learn as much as possible. The first pitch went pretty smooth and I was definitely glad to be following. I could see myself potentially leading some of this terrain in the future but clearly lacked some basic skills in harder terrain. I had a tough time managing rope, dealing with insecure slab, and dealing with my ever present foot pain at the belays. The main difference I encountered from climbing previously were the hanging belays. These forced me to have systems much more dialed than previously when belaying on large ledges on easier alpine terrain. This go around we’d have a few bolted anchors with bad footing and no space to hold rope outside of my personal anchor. I may have short roped Michael and made other small mistakes fumbling with gear. But at least now I knew that I needed to improve on and felt great about getting on more routes in the summer.

    The Whitney Portal
    Pitch 2 of The Becky Route

    As for the climbing itself, the Becky Route is a classic for a reason. The huge and pristine rock that coats the walls of the Mt. Whitney portal feels like a Yosemite Valley of its own. Each belay brought us higher up the drainage and opened up views to the jagged spires high up in the alpine. The climbing was varied and challenging for the grade in my opinion. Up high the 5.8 slabs were incredibly runout and made for quite a challenging lead. The top of the route felt like a summit of its own and we were both psyched to have made it up in relatively clean style. I took one fall on the 5.8 slabs but otherwise felt pretty comfortable following the terrain. After a deserved pause at the top, we then started the hardest part of the day: getting back to the car. Admittedly we were both unprepared for the descent. I had some photos and an idea of where we needed to go from Mountain Project, but it was harder than I expected to find the right gully to walk down. Adding to the pain, I forgot my approach shoes at the base of the climb and now needed to descend about 2000 ft in La Sportiva Mira’s. The path we took seemed promising initially before cliffing out a handful of times. I was slowed down by my uncomfortable shoes and just wanted to get towards a clean descent path. In haste we certainly missed the correct gully between buttresses and instead made an incredibly loose and torturous path down some larger gully far from the route. Michael opted to get the car while I trudged up to retrieve my approach shoes. The whole time I cursed myself for not bringing the right shoes and certainly got some suffering in through bushes and scree fields before arriving to the base of the route. By the time I made it back to the car I felt pretty exhausted. On the bright side, it was still a much better experience than I had imagined after our bail and I really did learn a ton through our ascent. We departed that day feeling stoked to climb more throughout the year and both knew that I could follow 5.9 finally in the alpine.

    Mid Becky Route with Portal views
    Michael sending on sketchy, runout 5.8 slab
    Lone Pine Peak, Mt. Thor, Mt. Whitney

    My original plan was to try to stay in the area for the whole week and I was fiending for at least one more outing before making the trek back home. Luckily I had met another Mountain Project forums climber named Eli out in Pine Creek. He happened to still be in the area after cragging with Michael a few days prior. That night I headed over his way to see if we could make the best out of his rest days before headed off to Tuolumne. We met briefly that night and schemed some plans for the day ahead. I mentioned I was new to climbing but had a ton of experience skiing in the area. In fact I thought I have heard of the Scheelite Canyon previously while scoping ski lines in the spring. Turns out I was right and I brought up some photos of the canyon from a few days prior. Scheelite Chute is one of the longest continuous chute descends in the whole of the Eastern Sierra. It begins at the crest of Rock Creek just over 13,000 ft before falling 6,000 ft directly into the huge drainage below where climbers spend their summers sport climbing. I remembered that the line was notoriously difficult to get in good conditions due to its enormous range of elevation. From the photos it was obvious this was the case and we would need to climb for several thousand feet before even reaching snow. Regardless we agreed it would be a ridiculous and fun adventure to take skis up there and see for ourselves if it would go.

    An exercise in skiing dedication

    That next morning, in the beginning of June, we got our packs on and hiked up the canyons towards the skinny streak of snow high above the trailhead. After a half mile of trail we continued on talus and rolling hills up the canyon. It felt pretty ridiculous to have skis and boots strapped to my back with no snow in sight. Both of us knew there was a low chance we’d put them on but I really did want to ski. Nearly 2000 ft later we got our answer. In front of us was a waterfall maybe 30 or 40 ft high which broke up the otherwise smooth canyon. I made some feeble attempts to climb up the steep bushes on its flanks without much success. Looking further I knew that higher up in the canyon were two more of these waterfall steps between us and the snow. In usual fashion it was cognitive dissonance that gave me the hope to reach skiable terrain and I remembered saying there was little chance of success at the start. Reluctantly we turned around and plotted our next plans. Luckily for me, Eli was still willing to get in some climbing for the day.

    Myself after I was sufficiently convinced our mission was over
    The dramatic Scheelite Chute, falling 6000 ft from the high peaks above

    After a brief nap and lunch break back at the cars, we spotted an interesting climb that seemed to work for both of us. Eli was leading several grades above me and planned for a day of rest. I was a newb who wanted to get in as many pitches as possible for experience. Somewhere in the gap between us was a route called ‘The Big Deal’, consisting of five pitches hovering around the 5.8/5.9 grade. This time I wanted to put my new skills to the test and tried my best to stay organized along the set of mostly hanging belays. My shoes still crushed my feet the whole time, but I at least felt way more confident than the day prior. I managed to not short rope Eli that much and sent all of the pitches in clean style. I trusted my feet way more than before and even managed to get some decent finger locks with the steeper 5.9 pitches. We made pretty quick work of the route with Eli on the lead before switching to rappels for the way down. This time I was more prepared and we got into a decent rhythm by pre-threaded the rope into the next anchors keeping our systems clean. The whole ordeal took a little over five hours and I felt like I had maintained some semblance of style for the first time.

    The large granite walls lining Pine Creek
    The first pitch of ‘The Big Deal’ on the PSOM slabs
    Rappelling down ‘The Big Deal’

    Eli was headed back to Tuolumne but mentioned some hot springs I should hit up on the way back. By this time it was Thursday night and I was ready to head back to SF for the weekend. In some ways I was disappointed in bailing and failing on climbs throughout the week. But then I headed up to Bridgeport to camp near the Travertine hot springs for the night. I got out of my car, slipped into the spring, cracked open a Mammoth IPA, and took in the sunset in solitude. In front of me was the glorious Sawtooth Range and huge cow-filled grass plains before it. I had just climbed nearly every day of the week in quite a few different regions of the Eastern Sierra. I learned a ton in comparison to the countless weekend trips of my past. I was bathing in a spectacular hot spring while the sun was setting after a week well spent. My thoughts turned to what was ahead for the summer and I was more motivated than ever to get back after it the next week.

    Bliss at Travertine Hot Springs, Bridgeport
    1. “Cragging” – Non-alpine and single day climbing outing ↩︎