Glacier Peak in 48 hours: Type two fun, defined 3-7-2015

Tahoma was the first epic plan for the weekend, but the road to Sunrise is still gated at Crystal and I've got my heart set on the Emmons.  Colin assured me that 3 full days for Glacier Peak is overkill, so we recruited Camille and hit the North Fork Sauk River Trail just after 7 on Friday night. We were aware that there is no camping allowed on the ridge at White Pass,  but unaware of 2 campgrounds in the basin to west. We set up camp at the Mackinaw Shelter at 10 and planned for a 3 am wake-up call.

After a slow breakfast we started up the 28 switchbacks to the PCT. Snow appeared around 5000' and covered the long traverse to White Pass. We put on crampons for the last mile or so, following some ski tracks above steep slopes. We stopped at a few spots of melted out trail to watch the rising sunlight on Sloan Peak and the Monte Cristo Group behind us. The skiers whose tracks we followed were camped at the pass. We exchanged pleasantries while taking a break before continuing on. We quickly agreed to change into snowshoes after a few some post-holing.

When we reached the saddle two peaks west of Point 6770 our distant target finally appeared across the White Chuck Glacier.  Crampons went back on for the traversing descent down the shady side of the ridge. They were again traded for snowshoes as soon as we hit the sun baked glacier. It was getting late in the day, and I was intent on making up for lost time on the way to High Camp but snow conditions were just not cooperating.

 When we reached High Camp we melted snow and reassessed. Camille decided that she would wait behind so we planned to return by 5, giving us 4 hours for the round trip. This would turn out to be a hopelessly optimistic plan. The Cool Glacier looked smooth as butter, and Colin was confident we could avoid the few crevasses he saw last summer so we left or rope and harnesses. We plonked our snowshoes into the edge of the Cool as the sun left it and hauled ass across to the next saddle, pausing once to watch rock peel away from the east face of Disappointment Peak.

On the north side of the glacier we met 2 skiers on their way down. It was nearly 5 o'clock, our planned return time to Camille at High Camp. We were moving far too slow,  but i could not resist the summit fever. One look into Colin's eyes and I knew that no discussion was necessary, and we continued on. The next 1000 feet came and went at a painfully slow pace. Colin was lagging behind but I kept moving as the sun began to set behind Mount Pilchuck. I ascended the final stretch between rime-covered rock and stepped onto the summit in time to catch the last few minutes of sunlight.

Colin joined me and we wasted no time before starting the descent. It was 6:15. We were a little worried about Camille, and regretting or decision to continue on. A single headlamp could be seen on the White Chuck, so we flew back down to High Camp as quickly as ore legs would carry us. We were both getting low on water and wanted to catch Camille in case she took the stove with her. Regardless of our choice to continue past our agreed return time, it would have been wise to further discuss contingencies before splitting up our group. Colin was hopeful that Camille would still be waiting for us, but when an hour after sunset we were still below the short elevation gain back to High Camp I knew that was a long shot. I couldn't blame her if she had to get moving to stay warm, or worse that she assumed something had gone wrong. I started to feel terrible for putting our friend in such a position.

We were elated to find the stove waiting for us, although it was now clear that we would be chasing Camille back to camp. After quickly depleting or fuel we quickly repacked and headed back as moonlight descended upon the White Chuck Glacier. This was the beginning my separation with Colin.  I would stop each time his light was lost behind me, but by the time he reached me my toes began to freeze, and I was growing more concerned that Camille might decide to continue past camp in search for help.

We post-holed most of the way across the White Chuck, too stubborn to switch to snowshoes yet again. This was a poor decision as the rapidly cooling surface grew less consistent, breaking randomly under every third or fourth step. The final ascent and return to White Pass was grueling. When I noticed it was 1 am, I waited for Colin to catch up one final time. I  expressed my concern that at the rate we were going, we wouldn't reach camp until nearly 3 o'clock. Colin was moving as fast as he could safely and we agreed to split up so that I could reach Camille asap.

When I returned to camp I was relieved to find Camille fast asleep. My attention to immediately turned to hot food but the filter was with Colin and I was not excited at the prospect of boiling water from the creek, so I drank my last sip of water and crawled into my bag to await his return. I awoke with my headlamp still on as Colin joined us in the tent and we both passed out, no longer concerned with dinner.

 When I woke up naturally at 7 Colin asked me what the hell I was thinking and Camille opened her eyes long enough to smile at the realization that we were back safe. They both promptly went back to sleep until I roused them at 2 p.m. to suggest we break camp and get back to Granite Falls while Playa Bonitas was still open. On our way out the trail seemed to have grown since we last traveled it less than 48 hours prior. Like I said - "Type 2 fun, defined.

2014-11-8 Seven Fingered Jack

Colin and I hatched the plan for a weekend backpacking trip early in the week, and by Friday we had settled on Leroy Creek Basin North of Leavenworth. The goal would be to climb Seven Fingered Jack and Mount Maude, then whatever else we had time for. The Forecast looked decent until Sunday which suggested rain showers, likely in the afternoon - so we prepared to pack out early Sunday for some sport climbing near Vantage before returning to Seattle. Work and traffic made for a late departure and a longer drive than we had hoped.
We pulled up to Phelps Creek Trailhead at 9 o'clock and were on the trail by 9:30. Despite passing faint trails just past two of the first few creeks we had no trouble locating the climbers path after crossing Leroy Creek, the widest of the bunch. We experienced minimal bushwhacking, but we were both exhausted from a long day so we set up camp at the first flat spot we found, about 600' below the upper basin. It was well past midnight by the time we had eaten and crawled into bed, and we agreed to forego the early start.



As we started out from camp just before 10 am it was clear that we had wasted the best hours for snow travel, and with each subsequent post-hole it became all the more obvious that we would not have time to make both summits. During a rest stop at the campsites in the upper Leroy Creek Basin, we decided to first tackle 7FJ and then let the cards fall where they may. We could see a few different route options, but there was just enough snow cover to further disguise the slope degrees from below.





As we neared the saddle the east-to-west traverse below the finger cliffs looked appealing, however it would require some travel through potential avy terrain. The West Ridge looked steep, but do-able, and with a slightly safer approach. After crossing an ~40 degree snow field and prodding Maverick through a sketchy scramble we had gained the ridge. Halfway to the summit we agreed that this would not be a fun descent route due to steep exposure and loose rock. 10-20 mph wind blasted us from the west as we neared the summit.




Crampons and ice axes came out for the final 100 feet or so. Views were outstanding from the top, but howling wind and a quickly setting sun chased us away before we could even get the motivation to search for a register. We traversed toward Maude on the descent and we were glad we did. The 2-3 feet of week-old snow had baked for hours in the sun, making for a slow and painful descent into the trees. We stopped briefly for the sunset and cursed our lazy selves for getting such a late start on the day. We returned to camp well after dark and were passed out by 9.





We got about 3 inches of snow overnight which thankfully did not turn to rain until we were nearly back to Phelps Creek Trail. The waterfall on Leroy Creek, which we had only heard on our way up Friday night, was gushing when we passed. The largest puddle in the road had grown almost too large for my tiny escape to pass it. Back in Leavenworth the rain had subdued. Vantage was bathed in sunshine, as usual, allowing for us to get a few hours of climbing in at The Feathers before sunset.