A goal without a plan is just a wish. -Antoine De Saint-Exupery

Find out how Barry Levinson and crew turned their wish into reality with Pro Guiding Service.  Click on the link below to read Barry's book and see photos of their incredible trip. 

Haute Route

They reported winter-like conditions and a great ski...

Check out Forest's report at his blog:  http://forestmcbrian.com/

July 17-20, 2011 

Trip Report

Written by Amir Movasagi

Participants:

Rob Kikta-North Bend, WA

Dave Hoover-Wheaton, IL

Staci Hoover-Wheaton, IL

Amir Movasagi-Kirkland, WA

Guides:

Ben Haskell-AMGA Guide-Pro Guiding Services

Chris Simmons-IFMGA Guide-Pro Guiding Services

Day 1-Sunday July 17

Under overcast and wet skies all the participants met at the Paradise parking lot (5420 feet).  With the group gear distributed, our guides Ben and Chris went over the details of the trip and informed us of all the risks involved with climbing and safety being the number one priority.  We moved on to the climber's ranger station to receive our permits.  Relative to most of the other climbing groups our team was considerably smaller so we had the benefit of a personal session with one of the rangers to receive first-hand reports of weather, mountain conditions and learn the proper technique of using and disposing of the "blue bag". 

At around 11 am we started with our first steps on the Skyline Trail.  Both guides immediately set a very deliberate and consistent pace.

For about 45 minutes we followed large groups of climbers and day hikers making their way towards Camp Muir.  Right before Panorama Point, at Glacier Vista, we separated from the crowds and descended west towards the "fan" portion of the lower Nisqually glacier.  We roped up into teams of 3, donned our helmets and made a fast cross of the glacier.  This was to avoid potential rock and avalanche hazards.  Food and water breaks were mandated by our guides.   They were constantly reminding us and emphasizing the importance of being hydrated and fueled.

East of the Wilson Glacier we made our ascent towards the Turtle, a large snowfield with rocky ribs.  We had our first safety session going over the proper technique of self-arrests using our ice axe.

Continuing our climb we hit rain showers and walked into our first night's camp site at around 5 pm at an elevation of about 8400 feet.  The slow and deliberate pace our guides had set at the start of our climb was paying dividends as no one really felt the effects of the higher elevations.  We quickly set our tents up and started the long process of boiling snow to replenish our water supply and prepare our meals with.  We hit our bags early with gusts of 30 to 40 mile per hour winds rattling our tents.

Day 2-Monday July 18

With a relaxed morning start under partially cloudy skies we climbed towards our 2nd camp.  We were hoping to use the campsites at around 10,700 but they were taken by another group of climbers.  We pushed on another 500 feet and found sites to pitch our tents right below Camp Hazard-named for one of the first climbers of this route.  The guides had to remove rock and ice to clear a pad for their tent.  We were given last minute instructions for the summit day push.  Wake up call was scheduled at 1 am with a start time of 2 am.  Weather still being unstable; we went to sleep with the sound of the guides' weather radio broadcast coming from their tent.

Day 3-Tuesday July 19

At 1 am sharp the guides gave us the wakeup call.  Under relatively clear skies and calm winds we put on our headlamps and helmets, ate a quick breakfast, secured crampons and harnesses and walked up 30 feet to our first technical challenge of the climb.  Ben and Chris belayed each one of us through a short rock gully that puts you into the start of the two steep Kautz chutes.  With the large amount of late season snow we were able to short rope through the steep chutes and with the excellent footing, made very good time. 

We made our way through to the confluence of the Kautz and Nisqually glaciers coming across a vast and open area with beautiful seracs jettisoning out and breaking the winter-like scenery.  Absolutely spectacular!  Four to six inches of fresh snow made the boot pack well pronounced through a winter wonderland.

At the juncture of the Kautz and Nisqually glacier, our guide, Chris made an excellent judgment call and chose to avoid the standard route which a previous climbing group had taken.  Chris pulled this out of his experience of bagging the Rainier summit 50 times throughout his guiding career. This call saved us an hour of travel time compared to the other climbing group that had to spend time negotiating crevasses.  From this point we pretty much had a straight shot to the Columbia Crest summit at 14,411 feet. 

At 8:01 am we reached the summit to a wild and exciting scene of other climbers congratulating each other.  The winds were relatively light and all of us felt great.  Minor headaches were the only reminder of our elevation with Staci asking, "when should I start feeling the altitude."  Once again the pace that was set by the guides helped make the climb relatively easy and very enjoyable.  

Dave and Staci spent a special moment together on the summit celebrating their 14th wedding anniversary.  I thought most couples go to Tahiti on their anniversary.

Unfortunately our views were diminished by the clouds so after 15 minutes of picture taking and more congratulations we began our descent.

The descent was the same route we came up, with Ben establishing two running belays for Rob and I while Chris chose to continue short roping Dave and Staci through the steep Kautz chutes.  Either method would have worked but I wanted to leave the day with a true mountaineering experience and Ben kindly accommodated.  Watching Ben come down the chutes unprotected was impressive.

Nine hours later from our start time we were back at camp.  After replenishing ourselves with food and water and a restful nap, our guides made the decision to ascend to a lower camp putting an immediate end to the client's mutinous thoughts of descending all the way to Paradise.  What were we thinking?

The weather report was questionable and our guides wanted to drop some elevation to have an easier descent to Paradise the following day.  After a couple hours of climbing down we came across a great camp site with running water.  We enjoyed a beautiful evening at a great camp site, our last night on the mountain.

Day 4-July 20

With a relaxed morning start and great weather, we broke camp and made our way back to Paradise enjoying great views and even got to see some geological activity with a piece of the Nisqually Glacier breaking off.  Reaching the oxygen rich lower elevations, we made very quick work of the lower Nisqually Glacier, a short climb up to the Skyline Trail and eventually Paradise.

Ben took care of checking us back in at the ranger station and the rest of us took special care disposing our blue bags.  We got back into our comfortable cotton attire and headed to the RMI Base Camp Cafe in Ashford for the customary and celebratory burgers, pizza and beer.

On a personal note, whether you summit or not, to me there isn't a better high than spending time with a great group, great guides on a great mountain.  

However, as a novice climber the key points that I noticed help make this event so successful included:

-Experienced guides that provided a climbing pace that was consistent with all the clients' abilities.

-The entire group's excellent fitness level.

-Constant monitoring of safety procedures by our guides.

-Proper hydration and food intake during climb.

-Proper equipment and clothing.

-Luck!

Check out the photos!  

I did this route a few years back with by now IFMGA guides Nick Pope and Olivia Caussen as part a guides training weekend. There was no sign of past traffic on the route other than a pin that I had left on descent of the West Ridge on a guided climb. I then did the route again last year a couple of times and cleaned it. I think it is a really worthy day trip from the Seattle area. It offers a lot more real climbing than the NE buttress, is more diverse and committing.

It involves 5.7 climbing and exposed ridge travel. The route is just long enough to make it worth the trouble. Enjoy. 

Route description:

The route starts at the base of a narrow 220 foot couloir that goes up to the lowest spot of the West Ridge just east of a distinct tower. The first 15 meters accessing the actual couloir does not offer pro, but never gets hard. Then climb up with good pro (5.7) to within a short distance of the ridge crest. Stay left where the couloir splits near the top and find a couple of hammered-in nuts and older biners. Good anchor possibilities here. From here climb up and right around a steep bulge to the ridge crest. 

From here traverse left over third class terrain (short rope) until you are under an obvious couloir that is capped with two chock stones. Go up the couloir and under the chock stones to the notch. Lower chock stone is loose! At notch turn right and climb a couple of short pitches (5.7) to the base of a short slab (two pins here). Stay on ridge to the base of a short 10 foot headwall with poor pro (exposed). Climb up and around a bit left, then immediately back to the ridge. Keep on ridge crest now to avoid loose rock. 

The ridge levels off and a short down climb gets you into a notch with short trees. Traverse easy ground on the north side for about 15 meters, then back up to the ridge crest. Now stay on the ridge crest on shattered but easy rock until you hit the false summit. 

From the false summit climb down easy ground just a bit, then traverse the narrow ridge staying on the north side. This is easy but exposed ground. This will bring you to a small notch. Climb easy ground to a knob, then down to the notch between the false and true summit. One easy pitch to the summit from here. 

3 to 4 four hours from route entrance to the summit. Grade III/5.7 

Descent: use the standard descent couloir down the south side which leads to the narrow rappel gully that brings you back into the upper Chair Peak basin. (1 to 2 hours from the summit back to the Chair Peak basin.  

Gear Notes:

Equipment: 60 meter rope, medium size alpine rack. Light crampons and light axe until middle of summer. 

Approach Notes:

Approach: 

Go to the far west end to the Chair Peak via the standard approach route that you would use to get to the NE buttress route. From the base below the NE buttress keep traversing on slabby and in early season snowy and potentially glide cracked terrain to the base of the route. 2 to 2.5 hours from the car

May 13th and 14th, 2011
Whistler, BC

Alarm goes off at 4:45. On the road before 5 for a short (so I thought) drive from Bellingham up to Whistler. I thought it a little strange when I pulled up to the border and saw a giant stop sign. Little did I know the border at Linden doesn't open 'til 8am. Shit. Over to Sumas and up to the Canadian Highway just in time to hit the morning rush in Vancouver. Once through the city it was smooth sailing through the majestic Howe Sound and up to Whistler by 8.

I'd never been to Whistler; first time at the largest ski resort in North America. Navigating the parking lots and Whistler Village was a reminder that I was not at Mt. Baker Ski Area anymore, todo. This was further confirmed when I got to the designated meeting place, Starbucks, and realized nobody there looked like there were going on a ski tour today. After asking the barista, I found out whistler village has three Starbucks and found the rest of the group from PGS literally 100 yards away at the next one.

Once we geared up and got our single ride lift tickets we were on the gondola heading up to Blackcomb. After a minor delay due to route finding (inbounds) we were all assembled at the base of the T-bar by 11:30. Since it wasn't operating we got to skin up to the first col and through the gates into the backcountry. Skies were clear with only high wisps of clouds. Lots of sunshine and expansive views.

Skinned up to the col between Blackcomb and the Spearhead and changed over for a mellow descent onto the Decker Glacier. At this point our group of seven was reduced to five. 2 clients did not feel up to the challenge and returned to the ski area. This left us with a group of 5 total, Martin and Dave guiding and three clients, Doug, Lynn and myself. Dave helped Scott and Mike get back inbounds while the rest of us began climbing up the Decker.

Dropped through a fun chute onto the Trorey Gl. Skinned across the Trorey up to the col on Pattison's north ridge. This was typical of the day's travels; mellow descent, ski across a flat glacier, ski up to the next ridge/col, and repeat. The descent onto the Tremor glacier led down a windblown spine, but better snow was found just off the ridge. In general the snow was soft in shaded north aspects, and corn/slush on sun-exposed slopes with a dose of wind crust mixed in.

After a long ascent up the Tremor Gl., we skied down the Platform Gl. and around the large windlip to our camp just south of Quiver Peak. We got into camp around 7:30 after what was a pretty long day in the sun. Tents went up and everyone disappeared for the night. Lots of wind and blowing snow, but no real precip to speak of.

We woke up before 5 to increasing clouds and deteriorating weather. Ate, packed and were on the move around 6:30. By this time the clouds rolled in and visibility was almost zero. Props to Martin for navigating the Ripsaw, Naden and Macbeth Glaciers in zero vis conditions. As we descended the Macbeth and onto the Fitzsimmons Gl., we droped below the clouds and regained some sense of where we were. Everyone commented on what a nice run that would have been if we could see anything. A nice long descent with good snow conditions up high, turning to wet and heavy mashed potatoes at the bottom.

Changed over for a ski up to the Overlord Glacier, which we gained at around 7200 ft in a light rain. The ascent was steep and we saw a small sluff release and slide over a minor cliff band, although nothing propagated. Once on the Overlord, we were treated to another long, mellow descent below the north side of Fissile.

A quick skin up had us at the Russet Lake hut by 10:30. We got some food and drink in and decided to push on. It was early in the day and the snow in the vicinity was pretty heavy. These factors led us to choose to head for Whistler before the weather got any worse. After a nice break at the hut, we had a quick skin before a lovely descent through glades down to Singing Pass.

We ascended from the pass up to Oboe in open, low angle slopes in a light rain. This is where I was really drained. I distinctly remember thinking to myself, "first I'll puke to my left, the lay down and take a nap on the right." Even though this climb wasn't as steep as what we had done earlier, I was pretty worked and really started to feel it.

From Oboe, we descended gentle slopes before the last significant climb to Flute. From Flute we dropped into the Whistler Ski area and made our way back to the village.

But Wait!!! We only thought we were home free. Skiing down the Olympic run at Whistler, we notice a road had been cut through the ski run. This forced us to take off our gear, hop down a 4 to 6 foot snow bank to the road bed, and then back up to the ski run. This happened about ten times before we got all the way down. We walked the final slopes into the village since they had already melted out by this time. At the cars we ditched our gear and changed close before enjoying a well deserved IPA and cheeseburger.

All in all a great trip. Excellent work out (thanks everyone for tolerating my slow pace).

Still plenty of snow so get after it! Great company and amazing scenery. Learned a lot of ski mountaineering info that can best be taught through experience. I'm already planning my next trip!!

Cheers
Phil Roberts

On July 27, 2010 Martin Volken led me to my first summit of Mount Rainier by way of the Kautz route. In the group was Tom Smith, Allen Sjogren, and Tony Ohrazda. We spent four amazing days on Mount Rainier, and here are my recollections of that trip.

The trip began with us meeting at Whitaker’s Coffee shop in Ashford where split up the group gear and watched two bus loads of climbers head off to the mountain. After looking at Martins 50 Liter, 35 pound pack sitting next to my 67 Liter, 50 pound pack and Tom’s 65 + 15 Liter, 55 pound pack. Tom and I both hastily removed a large amount of food and clothes from our packs Clearly Tom and I had a lot to learn about packing. We loaded up our cars and headed up to Paradise to begin the climb.

The first day was fairly casual as we started up the mountain from the Paradise parking lot under perfect blue skies and a warm sun at around 11 AM. I was quickly feeling the pounds of unnecessary weight on my back despite the short 4 hour climb up to Glacier Vista, down across the Nisqually Glacier, then up to our first camp just below 9,000’ on the Wilson Glacier. 

At camp we began pulling the gear out of our packs and setting up camp. Martin would just shake his head each time I pulled out some unnecessary piece of gear out of my pack such as UV light water purifier (which, not surprisingly, is much larger and heavier than iodine tablets). With camp set up, the process of collecting water began. Allen tried to collect enough water to fill a single water bottle from the melting snow water dripping along the rocks. With Allen making very slow progress, Martin showed us his mountaineering Moses ways and pulled out a ziplock bag, placed it against the hillside, and suddenly was capturing multiple drips into a single waterbottle changing a 20 minunte per water bottle job into a 3 minute per water bottle job.

With camp set up, and water collected, I watched Tony pull out of his pack (which also appeared to be much smaller and lighter than my pack) a very comfortable looking chair. Tony proceeded to take off his shirt and kick back in his chair under the warm sun at 9,000’. I was almost expecting him to pull a Margarita out of his pack to complete the image. As we sat around, we compared and discussed the different gear we had just hauled up the mountain, telling each other that we had got a great deal on that item at RE.... (glance over at Martin) ...I don’t recall where I bought that item. With Tony in his seat and the rest of us each finding the most comfortable rock we could, we watched show as the sun set, lighting up Mount Adams, Mount Saint Helens, Mount Hood, and Mount Jefferson in an orange glow, and sending the shadow of Mount Rainier grow off into the horizon. 

Between the anxiety of the coming days activities and the loud snores of two tent mates, I hardly slept, but instead sat comfortably warm in my 30F sleeping bag and considered that I should have followed Martin’s gear list and brought ear plugs. The next morning we had a fairly casual start at around 8 AM and headed up a short ways to our next camp site just below 11,000’ and below the aptly named Camp Hazard. 

At around 1 PM with camp set up, and everyone hydrated and fed, Martin started educating us for the following days activities from our 11,000’ class room. We reviewed proper travel with crampons, crevasse rescue, and self arrest ,with each of us throwing ourselves down the hill time and time again. Then back to camp to prepare our packs for the next day’s climb and finally an early bed time.

At 3:30 AM the wake-up call from Tony came seemingly way too early. In the cold dark morning we all struggled to get ourselves ready for the 4:30 AM start time. It was a short hike out of camp, but the climb really began as we put on our crampons at Camp Hazard, and made our way around a gully below the Kautz ice cliffs and onto the ice shoot. Although the ice shoot was probably only a 40 degree slope, and covered with well frozen over sun cup steps, Martin climbed ahead, set up an anchor and belayed the four of us up the slope. It took two pitches, but the climb provided us a chance to get some great pictures before the long slog on to the summit.

Shortly after we reached the top of the shoot, I asked Martin about the weather. With thunderstorms looming the previous day there was the very real possibility that we were not going to make it to the summit for fear of being caught on the side of the mountain in the middle of a storm. Martin said that the thunderstorms would miss us we were definitely going for the summit.

A ways above the ice shoot on the Kautz Glacier at around 6:30 AM we stopping for breakfast. We ate our breakfast in the cold shade of the mountain. I was surprisingly hungry and thirsty which Martin said was a good sign that I was not having problems with the altitude. As we started off again I was surprised at how cold my gloved hands quickly became from just sitting still for 5 or 10 minutes. I found myself travelling up for the next 30 minutes with one hand in my jacket and the other hand on the ice axe, switching off as we traversed up the mountain with Martin navigating us across giant crevasses that would easily swallow most cars.

We continued up towards ever new false summit ridges, until at last we crested the crater, crossed it and found ourselves on top of the mountain at around 8:30 AM. At the summit we all congratulated each other, took pictures, and Martin pulled out his satellite phone and called his daughter to wish her a happy birthday. After twenty minutes on the cold summit, we were more than ready to began our decent, this time working our way around the summit ridge, and past the USGS marker summit marker.

Tony, being the strongest member of the party led us down the precarious path amongst the glaciers, following Martins careful route finding instructions. As we worked our way down I found my tired legs failing me, leading me to trip over my own feet several times. As we headed down Martin warned me a couple times to carefully watch my steps. Eventually we reached the ice shoot again. Martin gave us all a brief break and then instructed us that we would all need to be completely focused for the next section. Martin anchored us all in then belayed our group down the ice shoot again. We started down climbing the shoot, with Tony leading, followed by Allen, then Tom and finally me. Not wanting to take anything for granted, I found myself asking Tom several times for the best foot holds while carefully trying not to step down on his gloved hands with my crampons.

As we reached the end of the rope on the first pitch, we all inserted our ice screws to anchor ourselves to the ice as Martin climbed down setting up another anchor to belay us down one more pitch. All the while, a couple of women were working their way up the ice shoot. Concerned about their late start, Martin asked them what their goal was for the day, to which they surprisingly responded “the summit”. Martin expressed his concern to them about their late start, and then returned his complete focus to getting his party of four down the shoot.

Before long we had worked our way down the shoot and over the gully back to camp hazard, where at last we could remove ourselves from the rope and take off our crampons for the final distance down to our high campsite. I recall that as I rested at our high camp for a few hours before heading to a lower camp, that I was completely exhausted to the point of tears, and I turned to Tom and said something along the limes of, “That was one of the most difficult things I have ever done”. With a few hours rest we headed down to our lower camp to spend our final night on the mountain.

Our final day on the mountain began with crampons on, blue bags packed, and a casual start of 7:30 AM. We headed down to the Wilson Glacier where we spotted the tent that belonged to the ladies we had seen the day before headed up the Kautz Ice shoot. Martin checked their tent to find they had not returned. A quick satellite phone call to the ranger station revealed that the ladies had come down to Camp Muir and stayed the night there. I thought to myself that I did not envy the fact that they would need to climb down nearly to Paradise, then climb back up to the Wilson Glacier to retrieve their gear, then back down to Paradise again. Another hour of roped travel down the Wilson Glacier and across the crevasses of the Nisqually Glacier and we were back on the trails above paradise, and soon down enjoying burgers in Ashford.

Now more than 48 hours away from that moment I can’t remember why I thought it was so hard, all I can think about was how amazing the trip was. The only thing that reminds me of the difficulty are my sore stiff legs, and two quarter sized blisters on my heels. I don’t fully understand why, but with every hour I get further away from the actual summit day the more I want to go back. Maybe it’s because only a few short hours after coming back from the mountain I found myself in the unbelievably surreal setting of sitting in stop and go traffic on I-90 wishing for the quiet view from the mountain.

Back in March, while returning from a week of skiing in the Selkirk Mountains at Valhalla Mountain Touring with Ben Haskel, we found ourselves talking about future adventures. During one the days at Valhalla Mountain Touring, Jasmine, one of the guides, discussed doing the Spearhead Traverses in one day. I brought this idea up to Ben Haskel. Ben looked at me and frowned, and then said that with my terribly slow 10+ minute transitions, I would end up wasting at least 4-1/2 hours on transitions alone if I attempted something like the Spearhead Traverse. Ben then turned his attention to Jason Ramsey who had been one of the strongest members of our group, often being the last person to come in for the day. Ben suggested to Jason a 1 day attempt on Mount Baker (I thought this would be ideal for me, since it would only require one transition).

Ben went on to say that the challenge with guiding is that the guide and the client agree on a day or days, then they go and have to deal with whatever weather or conditions happen to come there way. If guide and client could be a bit more flexible, and try and both be available when the weather and conditions happened to be just right, then it would be possible to do a 1 day guided ski descent of something like Mount Baker. The real advantage of a trip like this, is that you wouldn't need to carry as much gear as you would need on the more traditional multi-day trips on Mount Baker.

I think that the other guys were unconvinced, but I personally really liked the idea of this trip. So over the coming months, Ben and I kept in touch. Ben would have a few free days, but I would be busy. I would have a few free days, but Ben would be busy. Eventually Spring slipped into summer, and quickly June was coming to an end. I figured I had one last shot at this trip. Ben and I finally managed to agree on a day (Tuesday June 29) and a time (4 AM at the Park & Ride North of Lynnwood). I managed recruited my brother Alex to join me on this adventure. Then a few days before we were going to leave something came up, and Ben was no longer able join us, but he talked Margaret into guided my brother and I on this trip.

When the actual day rolled around, we didn't get going until after 4:30 AM, and ended up needing to make a couple stops on the way up to the Schriebers Meadow, and without the use Ben's lead foot the drive took us a quite a bit longer than expected. In the end, it was nearly 8:30 AM when we started up the mountain. At the trail head there was a serious lack of snow, so we found ourselves hiking with skis on our back for over an hour, occasionally crossing patches of snow. After an interesting river crossing Margaret changed our path from the trail to following the river straight on up towards the Easton Glacier, with the hopes of reaching snow quicker.

It was a couple more crossings of the creek but we did eventually reach the snow and quickly started touring up the Easton Glacier. We toured for about an hour taking in the mountain, then stopped for a brief food break low on the glacier before continuing on our way up again. As Margaret led the way weaving around the crevasses lower on the glacier we found the sun constantly threatening to come out, but never appearing for more than a few moments at a time.

Around 11 AM, Margaret suggested that we were not going to reach the summit, and that we should plan on a 1 PM turnaround time. Despite the fact I was dragging a bit, I asked Margaret to consider extending it to a 2 PM turnaround time with a ultimate goal of 10K' and she agreed. However, by 1 PM I was really dragging and despite the mostly overcast conditions, I could not seem to get enough water in me. I was not at all disappointed when 2 PM rolled around and we were finishing with 9,750' high point at the crater rim. Where we stopped on the west side of the crater rim we were a bit more exposed to the wind than we had been on the way up and this made it pretty cold. Despite the chill, we all enjoyed looked into the steaming abyss, breathing in the sulfurous air, and considering the extra 90 minutes we would have needed to summit and turn around. Then we started the 6,400' descent back to the car.

Despite the late season we got about 1,500' of good turns, but then the snow got real soft, the clouds rolled in, and we were in the middle of a crevasse field hidden in thick clouds. I was glad to be following in Margaret's tracks at this point as we weaved our way around the crevasses, trying to catch the railroad grade at around 7,000'. Eventually finding the railroad grade we descended until there was literally no more snow to be skied, and for the first time this season I got a chance to do some distance down hiking in my AT-boots.

The hike back to the car seemed much longer than I remember it being on the way up, as the trail weaved in and around the seemingly endless Schriebers Meadow before eventually making it to the car. Before long we were in Mount Vernon enjoying a beer, burger, and considering plans for repeating this adventure again in the future.

The objective was to ski on every one of Mount Bakers'glaciers and ski off all three summits (Grants' Peak, Sherman Peak and Colfax Peak). 

We toured across the Sholes, Rainbox, Park, Boulder, Summit Cap, Deming, Crater Glacier, Talum, Squak, Easton, Colfax, Coleman, Roosevelt and Mazama Glaciers in brilliant sunshine (man - "Mount Baking" certainly honored its name at times....). The fact that we toured to the summit  and skied off all three peaks proved how amazing of skimountaineering terrain that area is. 

We will be posting a trip report and video on our website really soon. 

Cheers. Get out. Stay safe. Martin

I have been in the guiding business for just about 20 years now. I would be lying if I said that I became a mountain guide to interact with a large diversity of people. I simply wanted to go to the mountains and needed some type of job that would make this possible. Being from the Valais in the Swiss Alps made becoming a mountain guide seem like a logical conclusion. 

What I did not know then was that some of my best friendships would arise from people who were so-called clients of mine. Not all of them became friends, but certainly a lot of them seem to live very interesting lives that have captured my attention in many a hut or tent. I've had the pleasure to roam the mountains with doctors, surgeons, dirt bags, lawyers, carpenters, accountants, nurses, teachers, scientists, physicists, CEOs, CFOs, (and SOBs), house wives, cops, marketing managers, engineers, restaurant managers, slackers, industry reps, photographers, software developers, electricians, construction workers, movie producers, fighter pilots, marines, home builders and many more. They seem to come from a large diversity of socio economic back grounds though most of them make a decent living. 

I have been with these people on short trips, long trips, trips that were casual and trips where we all were scared, where the weather was on our side or where we were not invited in the mountains. I have been quietly observing these people for many years now and how they adapt to the unpredictable situations that the mountains will throw at them. Many of them get taxed to their maximum physical and emotional ability and very quickly the true colors start shining through. 

Once we make the commitment to come to the mountains, we all get reduced to pretty much the same class. What we want needs to be carried on their back and right here the first switch occurs. In the "civilized world" we generally acquire more goods and services to make our lives better and more comfortable. Of course once you have to carry all your belongings on your back, the story changes almost instantly. We start paying attention to what we really need and what we could possibly leave behind. Once this switch had been made, many of my clients have experienced some sense of liberation.

The mountains of the Pacific North West have been extra special that way, since there are no huts, helicopters, gondolas or porters that might help out. But even in a place like the Alps with its amazing infrastructure, the story does not change all that much. Once we leave the last gondola behind, we still have to carry our belongings from one hut to the next on our very own backs. We are all pretty much the same that way no matter what our background may be. We keep returning to the mountains because we have experienced a great sense of freedom and fairness out there and have created some of the happiest memories of our lives. 

So as I was writing this short piece, I realized that this sounded curiously similar to the first sentence of the Declaration of Independence: "We hold these truths to be self evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

I wonder if Jefferson, Franklin, Chase and company would have liked ski touring?

A Short Bus Long on Adventure. Trip Report by Kiel LaFrance.

What began as an incredible ski trip ended up being an even more incredible one.  The Short Bus Euro Trip was more than a ski vacation, it was a journey, spanning three countries and countless peaks and interspersed with delicious food and great times that I will remember forever.  I left with an altered perspective on ski touring and ski mountaineering that often makes me wonder why I'm not back in Europe at this very moment earning my turns.

Day 0: The trip began in Chamonix, France at the Hotel Gustavia, a wonderful establishment across from the train station with a rowdy and entertaining bar scene.  Here, I met my group, 7 of us plus 2 guides.  All were from the Seattle area except me (New York City).  After some introductions and some Q&A with our guides, Martin Volken and Adam George, we set out for dinner and drinks and prepared for the coming days ahead.

Day 1: The first day began with a short drive to Courmayeur, Italy, where we utilized the lifts to access the Valle Blanche and La Toula areas around Courmayeur/Chamonix.  A strong wind greeted us upon our arrival to the 3,642m Punta Helbronner.  The views were breathtaking, especially for someone like myself who had never skied in Europe before.  Everywhere you looked were gorgeous and intimidating snow covered peaks begging to be climbed and skied.  After some coffee, we ventured out and navigated some tricky stairs down a cliff, but were soon rewarded with tons of fresh snow.  A large storm had hit the area literally the day before our arrival and had blessed us with 2m of freshies.  We hooted and hollered like little kids on the never-ending ski descent down, getting our first taste of the European skiing life and the sheer size of the mountains of the Alps.  Once we were back on the summit, we skinned out a short distance and began our descent into the Vallee Blanche area, a 2,000 vertical meter tour that deposited us at the Montenvers rail terminal, which then transported us back to the Chamonix village.  Over a group dinner at a small and delicious French restaurant, we recounted our day and prepared the details for the next day's transfer to Switzerland.

Day 2: The transfer to Switzerland brought us through Martigny, a beautiful town wrapped in knee-high grape trees which stretched along on any available South facing slope.  The trees literally encroached on to the road, taking advantage of every inch available in order to quench the country's thirst.  After a ride up one of the narrowest and curviest roads I've ever travelled on, we arrived at the [too cool to mention] ski area, a poma lift mecca.  Our accommodation, the Hotel [too cool to mention], could be seen off in the distance perched on a pristine and snowy hill.  Because no road was available in the winter to transport us there for our 2 night stay, it was up to us to take as little as possible on the lifts, traverse through the ski area, and then skin up to the hotel (an adventure in its own right).  After arriving at the hotel on a gorgeous, bluebird day, we set out for a quick ski tour around the area.  We meandered over and around gentle snowy hills before gaining some elevation, but were soon forced to turn around because of avalanche danger.  Of course, we were all a little disappointed, but a little disappointment is much better than a ruined trip.  Plus, the 4 course meal we had back at the hotel and our plans for the next day were well worth the trek up there.

Day 3: The next day started early, earlier than sunrise to be exact.  After a quick breakfast and before the sun had even risen over the rocky peaks surrounding us, we ventured out North towards Amarosa Peak at 3,031m.  Our 3 hour ski tour took us over beautiful snowfields and unlimited ski descents, some gentle and some very difficult.  We meandered single file through the wilderness, not another soul in the area until we were very close to the summit.  After reaching the top of Amarosa, which afforded views of the Breithorn and an avalanche that took the life of a guide just earlier that day, we refueled our stomachs with local meats, breads and cheeses and began our descent down.  We made our own tracks on the untouched slopes, stopping every now and then to regroup and plan our next descent.  We continued this all day, skinning our way above the crests and then skiing further down, tracing the contours of the mountains and valleys, choosing our lines wisely, and enjoying the Swiss sun.  It was a very physical and incredible day but also a sobering one.  We were reminded that the mountains will give but can also take.  On a better note, however, it was my first time summiting a peak on skis, and Martin and Adam could not have picked a better route for it.  Another 4 course meal that night and tons of good stories capped off a perfect day in Switzerland.

Day 4:  Our 4th day of skiing was a welcome change, giving us time to rest our calves from the long ascents and instead burn our quads at one of Switzerland's finest resorts.  After skiing down to the van just as the sun peaked over the horizon, we set off for Zermatt where we skied inbounds all day and raced down 6,000 vertical feet of groomers all while the Matterhorn loomed above us.  After travelling from one side of the resort to the other, we stopped over in Cervinia, Italy for lunch, and I had the most amazing spaghetti alla carbonara.  After our lunch break, we enjoyed Zermatt for what it is, an endless span of mountains interconnected by the most up-to-date lifts, including escalators (yes, I said escalators), watch ads at every lift station, and one beautiful woman in a bikini doing a photo shoot.  It was Europe at its finest, and we could have easily stayed there for a week and never ski the same run twice.  But it's the Short Bus Adventure Week, and the short bus was calling, so after the lifts closed, we packed into our respective vehicles and made the quick transfer to Saas Fee, a gorgeous car-free town lined with shops and restaurants one valley over from Zermatt.  We arrived as the sun was setting, filed into the Hotel Burgener right in the center of the village and set off for dinner.  

Day 5:  After passing out with some good old Swiss-German rosti in our stomachs, we set out the next morning before the lifts were officially running (due to Martin's wonderful Swiss-German) and took a short snowmobile ride and 2 trams up the mountain to the Metro Alpin, the highest subway in the world. We were dropped off halfway up this historic landmark, and after shuttling through a large metal tube, we were deposited on to one of the most beautiful snow fields I've ever seen.  After collecting my jaw from the snow, we put on our skins and started towards the Fluchthorn at 3,795m.  Under bluebird skies, we passed glaciers, snowfields and gentle hills, and after about 3 hours, we reached the summit with a little help from our crampons.  We were soon accompanied by a few other ski groups, and when the summit became a little too crowded for our tastes, we skied down for what seemed like forever, arcing turn after turn over the terrain.  After a short skin, we arrived at the Britannia Hut by Saas Fee, had some warm food, and then skied down the resort side, about 1,200 vertical meters, back to town.

Day 6:  Our final day was amazing, but tinged with a bit of melancholy.  I couldn't stop thinking that this was our last day together.  I wasn't prepared for that thought, so I put it out of my mind as best I could as we began our skin up to the Allalinhorn at 4,027m.  It was a beautiful day.  In fact, we'd been blessed with the best weather all week, warm temps and not a cloud in the sky, and our last day was no different.  Although one of our shorter skins because we used the lifts as best we could to gain vertical, it was one of the more technical since we had to rope up and make the final few hundred meters with our crampons.  The narrow peak was adorned with a large cross, and after taking a ton of pictures, both of the beautiful view and of all my new friends, we descended down a few meters to a sheltered spot and had a snack.  We then climbed back down to our skis and made our final 6,000 vertical foot descent down the Saas Fee ski area, stopping along the way to gawk at the glaciers and ice walls strewn along the ski runs.  But after a few beers and some quick packing, I was the only one left in Saas Fee, milking my stay in Switzerland for an extra two days while others went on their separate ways back home, and for a few lucky ones, to Chamonix and to Italy.

It's really hard to end this trip report because, truthfully, it hasn't ever really ended for me.  I relive it every night in my dreams and every morning when I look at my skis by the window.  It was a trip of a lifetime, and without the guys from Pro Guiding and their infinite knowledge of the area, it would never have been so memorable.  You'll see me again next year guys, and the year after that, and the year after that, and . . .

With the permission of friend and client Nikolai Popov I am adding a link to a report he wrote on a local website about our recent trip up Mont Blanc. 

Enjoy. MV

http://www.nwhikers.net/forums/viewtopic.php?p=535572#535572

May 23rd and 24th, 2009

What a difference a year makes.  One year ago almost to the day, I was hating life climbing the Kautz route on Mount Rainier on a ski mountaineering trip with Pro Guiding Service.  Now a year removed, a year wiser, new skills, and almost an entirely new set of lighter gear, I was ready to take on a slightly less daunting objective of climbing and skiing Mount Baker via the Coleman-Deming route.  Or so that was the plan.

The Mount Baker portion of the trip was literally a washout from the get-go.  Martin called a week before departure saying that the Glacier Creek access road was closed due to storm damage restricting access from the north and wouldn’t be repaired until the fall.  The Easton Glacier route from the south was still an option, but – as Martin put it – highly undesirable since snowmobile access was still allowed on that side of the mountain.  His idea of a nice ski climb in the mountains didn’t include hearing the high pitched whine of Ski Doo’s nearby.  He said the trip was switching to Mount Shuksan instead.

Now the mention of Mount Shuksan evoked two thoughts to me.  The first of ducking the rope lines at the top of Chair 8 at the Mount Baker Ski Area and venturing out onto the Shuksan Arm and Elbow seeking untracked powder.  Those were the good thoughts.  The other was viewing it from near Artist Point and thinking it was a really steep and rocky mountain.  Not so good.  “You’ll be fine,” Martin assured me, “it’s like Baker, just a bit more tech.”  Now being a techie guy in my everyday life, I figured Martin wasn’t talking of new electronic gadgets, he was really saying “it’s going to be way harder” in a polite, non-threatening, guide-speak way.

The trip started early Saturday morning in the parking lot of the North Cascades Ranger Station in Sedro Woolly.  There I met the other clients Doug, Kim and a husband and wife team of Craig and Charity.  Kim and I were in a PGS avalanche course together during the winter, so it was a pleasant surprise to see her on the trip.  We also met our other guide Erica Engle, whom I knew previously working at Crystal Mountain Ski Resort, so it was great to see her again too.

Things started on a high note right from the get-go.  Charity, who works at Outdoor Research in Seattle, presented Martin with a prototype OR trucker hat – apparently his favorite type.  Martin gushed over it and placed it on his head where it remained a permanent fixture throughout the trip (and it would not surprise me if he slept in it).

Martin then quickly conducted a gear check that went something like this: 

“Everybody got skis?”  “Yes”

“Boots and poles?” “Yes”

“Avy gear?” “Yes”

“Sleeping bag?” “Yes”

“Okay, we got the basics, everything else is a luxury.”

I remember thinking that I had never quite thought of food and shelter as a luxury before, but whatever.

After consolidating cars at a remote parking area, we drove out to the trailhead where we started hiking with skis on our backs.  A short while later, we reached the snow line and started touring through the forest.  The snow was soft and the air temperature warm making for quite a bit of work trudging uphill on skis.  But when we passed a couple climbing the mountain alpine style and post-holing past their knees in the soft snow, we realized how cool we really were floating past.  It wasn’t too much longer before the peaks in the North Cascade National Park started making themselves visible, and soon after Mount Baker made an entrance across the valley in all her glory.  The high pressure that made for hot and steamy conditions also made for blue skis and good visibility.

The initial plan was to camp high on the Sulphide Glacier but that meant crossing avalanche prone slopes in the heat of the afternoon.  After some consideration, Martin and Erica decided to camp a bit lower in a nice spot with a full view of Mt. Baker.  The rest of the afternoon and evening was dedicated to the usual tasks of drying gear, making dinner, and generally enjoying the great vistas and the spectacular sunset next to Mt. Baker.

Summit day began early because of the shorter first day.  After a quick transceiver and harness check, we pulled out of camp heading up the Sulphide.  After what seemed like hours of endless climbing, crossing large frozen avalanche chunks, switchbacks, kick-turns, and huffing slowly up the glacier, the inspiring view of the summit pyramid finally popped into view in the distance about the same time as sunrise.

At one point, Martin passed me and I noted how appropriate he was climbing on his K2 Skuksan skis, as were Kim and Doug who also had pairs of K2 Shuksans as well.  Erica and I both had K2 Mount Baker [Superlight] skis which would have been appropriate had we been climbing that namesake mountain.  The five of us were having a small K2 ski love-fest as it were until Craig and Charity spoiled it by showing up with their Black Diamond Kilowatt skis (which are awesome skis as well).

After more hours of endless climbing, we made our way past the Hourglass to the base of the summit pyramid where we took a break to make the switch from ski mountaineering to alpine climbing mode.  This meant caching the skis and ski crampons for ropes, ice axes, and boot crampons.

All of us were excited to make the summit push except for Charity who was having second thoughts about climbing the steep couloir leading up to the summit.  She wasn’t sure about how much energy she had, and was clearly worried about getting into trouble high up on the mountain and not having enough energy for a safe ski descent.  I could very much relate to what she was going through having gone through the exact same mental exercise on my Rainier trip the year before (I ended up not going for the summit then).  After talking herself out of going, she changed her mind at the last second and decided to go for it.

With Craig, Kim and I settled in on Martin’s rope line, and Charity and Doug on Erica’s line, we started climbing the steep chute up to the summit.  By “we” climbing the chute, this really meant Martin and Erica climbing up and setting an anchor from which they’d belay the rest of us up.  It wasn’t very long before we were all standing on the summit of Mount Shuksan!  That’s all of us including Charity, whom we all got excited for when she made it up the last push.

Two things came to mind on the summit.  The first was how great the view was looking down on the Hemisphere chair line at the ski area, the view of Table Mountain, the Arm, and of course Mt Baker.  The second was how small the summit really was and how steep everything was on each side.  With all seven of us up there, it was standing room only and you really minded where you stood.

The ski descent from the base of the summit pyramid back to the camp site was a blast as expected.  Ski descending a big mountain when it is doable beats walking down any day.  It was just as fun for me too watching Kim, Doug, Charity, and Craig chasing Erica down the glacier and having a good time skiing down.  After breaking camp, it was back to skiing down through the forest and back to the trail.  Soon enough, we were walking back towards the car with skis on our backs, save for a minor detour where Martin decided to get us a bit more vertical which we paid for by doing a bit of climbing and bush-whacking back up.

On the walk out Craig, whose was getting somewhat tired, had a bit of trouble negotiating several low hanging branches on the trail with his large pack and skis high in the air.  Several incidents reminded us of the Japanese game show “Hole in the Wall” where he had to bend at awkward angles to maneuver the skis past different branches while trying not to get knocked over.  More than once I thought he was going over, but several of us gave him instructions and pushed and prodded as he contorted into awkward positions and we got him safely past.

All in all, it was a great trip and a fantastic experience for us all.

By M. Wheel Er

There once was a group

of skiers quite pooped

who had skied from tip top of a mountain

They'd skinned part way up

Filled booze in their cups

And dined on top tuna and ramen

When the morn' came all pink

After smearing on Zinc

Up and up still they went on climbing

With skis on their feet

The way was more sweet

Than foot sloggers they passed on the mountain

When the top it was stood on

The hour was nigh on

For fast turns and a generous corn harvest

Looking back there were smiles

The view to Baker summit crossed miles

And our lads turned their tips towards the valley

Down they skied through the moss

Past a group mostly lost

To the point of no snow in the valley

As the last corner was rounded

The alarm was sounded

Cars!  Beers!  

And ski edges on gravel were grounded

*For more pictures and a bit of video, check out 'Mt. Baker - The Boulder Glacier Paradise' at:

http://margaretewheeler.smugmug.com

Or

Mountain House becomes the Whistler Restaurant Tour 

(As Told By Steve and Andree)

Steve:    

I've climbed up two Cascade volcanoes, but never expected a volcano to interrupt a ski trip.  Well Mt Redoubt and other factors led to an early melt in Valdez, and the super smart decision by Margaret to relocate our "Alaska" trip to Whistler, BC.  With the lift access to 7,500 ft we managed to find great snow still in May.

Andree:

Margaret knew where to find the great snow, but this time it was Steve, who has a spot in Blackcomb, who knew all the restaurants.  Plus, it was off-off-off season and every restaurant was running a fixed price extravaganza that left a few more Canadian dollars available for wine list explorations.  

Says Steve:  

Whistler was in the midst of restaurant special offer pig-out discount frenzy.   They were offering deals  -  we targeted them with efficient trip planning.  Juicy steak at Ric's Grill, Monk's Grill and Hy's, fantastic Sushi at Sushi Village, great Italian at Umberto's,and $5

burgers and cheap beer at Merlins.  Ok.. so Merlins wasn't the high point, but still beat eating dehydrated pizza with melted snow.

Back to Andree:  

The first days, however, we couldn’t tell if we were in Alaska or Canada. Visibility was zero, which led to many zen-like climbs.   If you can’t see where you are and can’t see where you’re going, you are forced to be in the moment.   We followed Margaret just to know where down was, and stopped when she stopped because sometimes she would say amazing things like:   “There used to be a huge pile of rocks just there; I bet if we wait a moment they’ll come back.”

Steve again:

Oh yeah, and the skiing kinda worked too.  Steep enough for one of the party to relate the "You are the strangest child" stories of a mother's despair.  Deep enough to shock us all that it was as late as May.  Body bag bowl, Decker, Hussume (better in May than it was in February), Disease Ridge, the Showcase T-bar, "The Stupids", Hibachi Ridge (via heli) all kept us entertained.

And Back to Andree:  

On the third day the weather cleared a bit.   We boot packed up to Hussume Couloir. On the way up, I kept thinking of my urban and urbane mother who, each time I would request a Christmas present from Patagonia instead of Bergdorf Goodman would declare, “You are the STRANGEST child!”   Spending one’s holiday climbing up this nearly vertical wall of snow had me thinking she might have been right, but once in the couloir, we had first tracks on perfect snow, and I was feeling like the luckiest girl on the planet.

Next day the weather was still fine, and Margaret led us to the top of a cliff, which she declared “just perfect.”   As I was trying to figure out a very polite way of saying There Is No Way in Hell That I Am Going To...

…she said, "with a rope"

…Oh, ok, with a rope.   So we rappelled down this cliff/wall/crazy something off the aptly named Disease Ridge.   When Steve reached the ledge where the steepness eased an itty bit, he in inimitable British fashion remarked, “Humm well now, that was quite sporting!”   I think that’s proper English for “that was frigging gnarly dude!”   At this point, I had to have a talk with myself about making a turn:  self talked back, I side-slipped, talked to self, self talked back, and finally a turn…

We made it back to the gondola which would take us back to civilization 20 seconds before it closed. OK everyone, Chateauneuf-du-Pape is on me tonight.

And Steve:

Between rappelling into Disease Ridge and heli-touring on Hibachi Ridge there was plenty of calorific burn-through to prepare us for the food.  All fantastic fun and a great experience, but as a Brit the most enthusiastic I could be was to state "that was rather sporting" (don't tell them I actually had fun).  When does the ski season start again??? 

And Andree:

The last day brought perfect blue skies and calm winds and a heli drop to the middle of nowhere Hibachi Ridge.   We skied and skinned and skied and skinned all day in our own private amusement park full of velvety snow.   Then right on time at the end of the day the heli fetched us for a return to Prosciutto and pasta and veal and Brunello. Ah the simple life.

*For video footage and more pictures, check out "Good Things Happen When Valdez Becomes Whistler" at:

http://www.margaretewheeler.smugmug.com/

and also:

http://brain.smugmug.com/gallery/8892712_YxSaW/1/589808916_RNDnp

I have seen this route countless times at 500 feet and 500 MPH.  The snowfields slide effortlessly by and I can climb, clear, and descend any ridge in less than a minute having it pass miles behind without much more than a slight push and pull of the muscles in my arm.  As a pilot in the Navy, I always called this route the “Million Dollar Ride” and flying the length of the Cascades from South to North took a little less than 30 minutes, at which point I was completing descent checks and getting ready for my approach to land.

That was then, this is now, and I am using every muscle in my body to climb 10 feet at about 10 feet a minute.  My feet hate my boots, I hate my feet, and both my tent mates hate the stink of me, my feet, and my boots.  It will take five days to travel the distance between Snoqualmie and Steven’s Pass, but in these 5 days I learn a whole new appreciation for the “Million Dollar Ride.”  Ultimately my trip mates and I learn the wealth of these mountains is truly priceless.

Our group includes our guide Ben “Let’s just see what’s down here/up there” Haskill, his assistant Mike “This is easy” Treslin, Greg “Secret Agent Man”  Clark, Collin “All Torque” Darrah, and myself Jeff “Wanna be Mountain Guy” Montgomery.  

Under the incredibly skillful watch of Ben and graced by what has to be a perfect combination of stability, snow conditions, weather, group dynamics, and a “let’s do it” attitude we complete what may be the trip of a lifetime.  Although 4 of the 5 days are bluebird with almost no wind, things did not start so pretty.  Below is a brief trip report of these 5 days.

DAY 1:

When I leave my home in Anacortes to meet the group at 0730 for breakfast and introductions, it is pouring rain and the thermometer in the car reads 45 degrees F.  We meet at a diner and introduce ourselves over Denver omelets, pancakes and too many cups of coffee.  Occasionally, we look outside at the rain that continues to pound the windows.  Finally, Ben decides we can delay no longer, and we head to the shop for a gear check.  Ben says we are good to go, and we load ourselves and our gear into the truck for our drop off at the start point.  The rain continues.  Ben decides to have us put on skins, packs, etc under the highway overpass – our final, desperate attempt to delay the inevitable.  We can delay no longer and begin our skin up the Common Wealth Valley toward Kendall Peak.  Approaching our first steep terrain Ben asks “How good are your kick turns?”, and as horns grow from the sides of his head, he laughs a mighty roar, clicks in the next setting on his heal risers, and vanishes into the blowing snow above.  Struggling, Greg, Collin, and I finally catch Ben at the top.  I think I hear Mike singing in order to get some sort of work out.  Our first descent into the Silver Creek area is challenged by a 4-6 inch reactive layer of new snow that is releasing on the wet snowpack below.  After an hour and half of expert control, Ben and Mike decide we are safe.  Accordingly, we begin our first “amazing” ski.  Let me describe my amazing ski:  sidestep, sidestep, sink knee deep in mashed potatoes, side step, start a turn, hit the avi debris, ski, sidestep, ski, wobble, fall, ski.  Well, at least I’ve descended back into the rain zone again.  Greg, Collin, and I look at each other and wonder again what we have got ourselves into.  Oh well, skins on and we complete our long traverse up Gold Creek valley and below Alaska MT.  We finally reach our first camp just below Joe Lake.  The good news is that there is running water, clearing evening skies, and a chance that tomorrow will dawn a brighter day.  I have packed a book to read.  I look at the cover, put it down, and lay back into my sleeping bag for a night of much needed sleep.

DAY 2:

“Gentleman, it is 0600!”  That is to be our morning alarm for the next 4 mornings.  Ben is awake and making sure that we are as well.  With Swiss precision, we pack and are skinning by 0800.  We quickly climb out of the trees and into the sun as we approach Chikamin Ridge.  A small section of ski crampon and some more climbing allow us access to our first truly good ski run off Chikamin Ridge and toward Iceberg Lake below which is flanked by the mighty Lemahs.  This time the snow is good and so are the turns.  We reach the bottom, have a bite, and begin our next climb toward Chimney Rock and the Overocat Col.  A mixture of skinning, steep kick turns, and ultimately trading skis for crampons allows us to reach our camp just below Chimney Rock.  Despite being beat down, Ben and Mike protest outside our tent until we are convinced to head up to the small saddle next to Chimney Rock and get one more ski in before settling down for dinner and rest.  We enjoy our dinner while looking up at our ski tracks fading in the setting sun.  What an amazing day.

DAY 3:

We quickly pack and head down into the valley below Chimney Rock intending to head back up to the Summit Chief Col.  Approximately 2/3 of the way down, Ben determines the approach to Summit Chief Col to exposed under the current conditions, and we are forced to return to the top and follow our alternate route.  A wise choice.  As Ben and Mike are exchanging high fives at the thought of another great up track; Greg, Collin, and I are left to encourage one another that it was going to be OK if we just stick together.  A mighty skin track and some great knee deep booting allow us to reach our previous campsite, at which point we rip the skins and start our second ski of the day.  We spend the rest of the day working our way thru the Middle Fork Snoqualmie and the Dutch Miller area toward our camp near Le Bohn Gap.  In this general area we establish a camp that we will use for the next 2 nights.

DAY 4:

A glorious day as we can leave our tents behind in favor of lighter packs and a day of big touring.  The result:  over 7000’ of up track, summit Mt Daniel and Mt Hinman; ski the Lynch, Foss, and Hinman Glacier; and an incredible lunch at the bottom of Hinman Glacier in what feels like a valley on the Moon.  The quote of the week comes from Greg who was encouraged during lunch to remove his boots and air his “hot spots.”  Greg’s deadpan response: “I am way beyond hot spots.”  Regardless, not a complaint from the group as we have just covered what has to be some of the most amazing and isolated terrain in the North Cascades.

DAY 5: 

A 0800 start and pack up puts us heading down into the Necklace Valley and toward the East fork of Foss River where we meet Martin.  He greets us with high fives, potato chips, and cold beers.  We are done.  Wow, that truly was a “Million Dollar Ride.”

Our author and linguist of the law Mark

Jim Bailey arriving by helicopter on the Col de Passon.

View from the Cabane de Trient.

Sam Hafez contemplating that he actually showed up at his own free will for this.

Guides meeting at the Cabane de Prafleuri.

Curt Oseland on the way to the Cabane de Dix.

Jim Bailey and Mont Blanc de Cheillon.

Curt learning about the trash yourself and treat yourself principle.

Toxic area at the Cabane de Dix.

On the way to the Pigne d'Arolla.

View towards Zermatt.

Going to Italy for the night on Col Collon.

How does a nice girl from Cameroon end up here???

Are Martina and Marge happy they just finished the Haute Route?

Yup.

All teams arrived in France with the hopes of completing Martin Volken’s Haute Loop, a ski tour from Chamonix, moving into Switzerland, circling south through Italy before finishing in Chamonix, three countries and six days later.  The Haute Loop tour will challenge the participants daily with a Detour, a task that all members of a team must complete and a Roadblock, an unforeseen obstacle, which may delay one or all members of a team or the entire group.  Each day will end at a predetermined hut, bivouac or hotel, the Pit Stop for the evening.  A team arriving last at a Pit Stop runs the risk of sleeping in a bunk next to a smelly, snoring ski touring freak with 4:00am departure plans.  Hotel Gustavia was the site of the mandatory gear check meeting and subsequent panic buying of additional unnecessary items.  Our host and leader, Martin Volken, co-leader Margaret Wheeler and Nick Pope introduced this tours’ contestants.

Alex Gorohoff, Matt Hestad and Jason Ramsey all hailing from Seattle.  Alex, master of several previous ski tours.  Matt and Jason, graduates of the PGS Intro to Ski Touring classes and eager to showcase their textbook skills.  All three friends, young, fit and good-natured: a formidable team.  

Greg Allen, also from Seattle.  Experienced ski-tourer and a veteran of multiple Haute Routes.  Strong, and reckless enough to compete as a team of one.

Peter Adamco and Holly Yocum, married slackers from Incline Village, Nevada.  Marginally skilled, fresh off the couch and un-phased by finishing last.

Day One.  Chamonix, France to Cabane du Trient, France.  Catch the 7:20am bus from Chamonix to Argentiere and Grand Montets ski area.  Safely navigate up stairs, through turnstiles, scanning lift tickets, while carrying skis and poles with sharp objects attached to your pack, enter and exit sardine crowded trams to the ski area summit at 3295 meters.  Descend in brilliant blue skies and knee-deep powder to Glacier d’Argentiere.  The elation ends quickly with skin up the treacherous Col du Chardonnet, following route markers over the Fenetre de Saleina, across the Plateau du Trient to the Cabane du Trient, the pit stop for this leg of the tour.

Detour.  “Step or Slide” In this detour teams can choose from the following two options, both involving the removal of flesh and/or ski base on the exposed rocks in the couloir.  The first option: Be lowered by rope approximately 70 meters with one skier side slipping, skis on, the other teammate kicking snow steps in ski boots, with the second member unfortunately leaving skin on the rock band in the couloir.  In this option, teams roped together may descend quickly, but rarely at same speed.  Second option:  Be lowered two at a time, side slipping with skis on, with a French client from another group crying between you and your partner, and a torrent of French instructions raining down from above.  

Roadblock.  Skin up the vertical Fenetre de Saleina, demonstrate agility by falling during a kickturn, rolling onto your back and stopping just before hitting the only rock on the slope.  After recovery, enjoy the spectacular views of Plateau du Trient and nice snow on the descent to the pit stop.

Pit Stop.   Cabane du Trient with rest and relaxation.  Hang out on sun drenched deck.  Enjoy the company of the other teams.  Multiple bowls of budget bouillon to stave off hunger and thirst.  Spaghetti for dinner and fruit cocktail for dessert.  Four, maybe five hours of sleep.  Tour continues tomorrow at 7:00am.

Day Two.  Cabane du Trient, France to Cabane du Mount Fort, Verbier, Switzerland.  Skin 600 feet up to the Col Droit, bathed in a beautiful sunrise, and drop onto the Glacier de Saleina.  As promised by the host, enjoy a 6000 foot ski descent to the typically meticulous Swiss town, Praz de Fort, before a taxi transfer and tram to Verbier.  Survive an overly cheesy rosti and beer while soaking in sun, before loading into another tram and skiing spring snow to the Pit Stop for today’s section of the tour.

Detour.  “Bust the Crust” In this detour all teams must ski 6000 feet of breakable sun crust, between icefalls and bottomless holes on the right and almost continuous avalanche chunder on the left.  Teams in the front may arrive at Praz de Fort first, but they run the risk of a greater number of heinous falls.  Slower skiing teams will be able to follow the troughs left by the faster skiers, possibly making for a somewhat less painful descent.

Roadblock.  In this roadblock, the group must quickly and unanimously choose between several changes in the tour, Options A through D, after consuming quantities of beer and sitting in the midday sun, without frustrating the host.  After a group consensus, the trip evolves from the Haute Loop into the Haute-L Loop, with an upgrade in nightly accommodations.  Note to host, in the future require decisions first, beer second.   

Pit Stop for this leg of the tour.  Cabane du Mont Fort.  Same routine with rest and relaxation.  Sunny deck, an unusual abundance of Americans.  Replenish fluids.  Spaghetti for dinner, again and pudding for dessert.  Four, maybe five hours of sleep.  Tour continues tomorrow at 7:00am.

Day Three.  Cabane du Mont Fort, Switzerland to the Hospice at Col du Grand St. Bernard, Switzerland (barely).  Skin up Col de la Chaux continue to the Col de Momin and summit Rosablanche 3336 meters before skiing descending feet to Fionnay and frosty beverages on a deck.  Complete a taxi transfer to Bourg St. Bernard, the Swiss entrance of the St. Bernard Tunnel and then use a tram to gain 3000 feet in elevation before traversing in the direction of the col and the ancient Hospice/monastery, this evening’s pit stop.

Detour.   “Powdered Potatoes “ In today’s detour contestants will enjoy beautiful powder turns off Rosablanche, the snow firming and becoming corn below Col de Cleuson.  As the teams descend and the team members are funneled into a narrow, rock walled canyon, the snow will morph into mashed potatoes mixed with avalanche debris, before spitting the group out into a spectacular valley and Fionnay.

Roadblock.   A twist in today’s Roadblock.  After a long day in ski boots, the tram will not be running due to high winds, and the group must skin/diagonal stride approximately 4 miles under a dreary sky to reach the Hospice.   During this event, blisters will need to be treated, additional snacks will be consumed and water containers drained.  

Pit Stop for this leg of the tour.  Hospice St. Bernard, Switzerland.  Following a brief lecture on proper conduct in the Hospice, an enormous array of recovery food, cheese, sausages, bread, biscuits, chocolates, coffee and tea, arrives served by monks in the 1,000 year old traveler’s refuge.  Chicken and rice for dinner and ice cream for dessert.  Five, maybe six hours of sleep.  Tour continues at 8:30am in the morning.

Day Four.  Hospice St. Bernard, Switzerland to Hotel Vallee Blanche, Palud, Italy.  Ski into Italy (just outside of the Hospice), through a tunnel and up Mont Fourchon 2902 meters, with no visibility to allow the host and crew to easily navigate.  Descend in fresh snow and clouds to the Italian side of the St. Bernard Tunnel and walk into quaint and quiet St. Rhemy to await a final taxi transfer into the Aosta Valley and Hotel Vallee Blanche, the Pit Stop for this leg of the tour.  A mandatory dinner meeting has been scheduled by the host at Maison de Filippo, walking distance from the hotel.

Detour.  “I See Noth-ing” For today’s detour, a cloud laden and snowy route will require that Martin, Margaret and Nick must guide the teams to Mt. Fourchon using only a map, compass and one of them in front as the bearing marker.  For the descent, Margaret will closely follow the skin track to allow the teams following an opportunity to enjoy skiing fall line.  It is a Detour with consequences only for the host and crew.

Roadblock. Teams must eat at a traditional Italian restaurant (not your neighborhood Olive Garden) featuring multiple courses of succulent dishes, including the flesh of local defenseless animals, many bottles of wine, more laughing than is socially acceptable and a walk back uphill, yes uphill, to the hotel.

Pit Stop for this leg of the tour.  Hotel Vallee Blanche.  Comfortable lounge featuring adult beverages and the site of a pre-dinner party.  Six, maybe seven hours of sleep.  Tour begins with a tram to Pointe Helbronner in the morning.

Day Five.  Hotel Vallee Blanche to Pointe Helbronner, Aiguilles Marbrees , returning to Col Orient de Toule and the stairway down, down to Glacier des Toules.  Teams will have an opportunity to sample mountain fare at Refugio Pavillon on the descent and enjoy a leisurely tram ride back to Hotel Vallee Blanche, the Pit Stop for a second leg in a row.  An afternoon excursion to nearby Courmayeur and dinner at Pizza du Tunnel is scheduled. 

Roadblock.   Today’s Roadblock features a multi-story, open and non-OSHA approved metal stairway from the col to the glacier that may test the nerves of weaker teams.

Detour.  “Stairway to Heaven??”  The Detour for this leg of the tour requires all teams to successfully ski down 1300 meters through some of the heaviest snow possible while dodging more avalanche chunder and gaping holes.  Pinwheels and rollers will cascade from each turn rolling into oblivion.  The contestants may tire and want to stop to rest, but if they do, conditions will only continue to deteriorate making their descent more difficult.  Consensus is that PGS now stands for Punish, Grind, and Suffer.

Day Six.  Courmayeur to Chamonix, via Pointe Hellbronner, Plateau du Geant, Mer de Glace and Montenvers.  Devour some of the best snow of the trip, while joining the masses of backcountry wannabes on that well-worn glacial freeway called the Vallee Blanche.  Return to Chamonix via the Montenvers train, and “dude” watch on the terrace at the hard partying Hotel Gustavia (Hey, is that Glen Plake?). No Roadblocks, no Detours, just a winning ski day and vin blanc et rouge to toast the completion of the Haute-L Loop with a group dinner at Maison d’en Bas. 

This region might be Norway's best-kept backcountry secret.

by Berne Broudy, Contributor, Skiing Magazine

She was built in 1882 to haul cod to ports along the Norwegian coast. In 1980 she was recommissioned and restored and now, under the able command of Captain Bjarne Krekvik – famous for crossing the Pacific on a wooden raft – she transports skiers to Norway’s best backcountry skiing. She is the Anne Margrethe, and her knotty-pine hull has carried us into a remote, craggy fjord. Ashore, two hours and three and a half miles into the approach to Kyrkjetaket, a kicker-shaped 4,750-foot peak in Norway’s Romsdal Alps, I’m gasping at the possibilities. Over 220 peaks, snow-covered from sea to summit, stretch as far as I can see in every direction. All look skiable. 

Sitting a 40-minute flight from Oslo and a boat ride from the airport at Molde, this region may be Norway’s best-kept backcountry secret. Sure, Norway brims with ski areas – I’ve seen several local molehills – but to get to the real goods, you have to hike. 

So we do. We ski early and sail late. We dry our boots in the engine room, pulling on frosty bottles of Ringnes, the local brew, and watch sunsets on the deck. Later in the trip, we overnight in Åndalsnes so we can ski 3,920-foot Smørbottfjellet. We skin up a ridge, a saddle, and then another ridge to vertiginous views of the fjords below. From there, we’ve got a view of Troll Wall, Europe’s highest vertical wall and most famous climbing area. Large chunks of it regularly splinter off and explode on the ground in mushroom clouds of pureed 5.11c. 

By the time we summit, the sun has burned a hole through the soupy gray clouds and the snow is corning up. I pick my way through rocks, jump-turn through summit crust, and drop into the cream, slicing through large scenery and vast snowfields that roll into the guts of the drainage. That night we return to Åndalsnes to knock back a $25 six-pack – the market price – and get our dance on with drunken Norwegians to Madonna, AC/DC, and Whitesnake until dawn. 

After two more days of spring corn, our Norwegian liaison, Didrick Ose, pulls the plug on skiing and informs us that we’re going to Hoddevika, a surf break that can be so big that the Vikings would drag their 60-foot boats overland instead of going around the point. We pull on five-millimeter neoprene watersuits, hoods, gloves, and booties, grab longboards, and prepare for a schooling. 

MORE INFO

Price: Six days of skiing with UIAGM guide Martin Volken, boat, minivan, rescue insurance, and food will set you back $3,200. It’s not finalized but Volken is working on a multisport tour: four days of skiing, a day of surfing, a day of fishing, boat, minivan, food, ferries, lodging, and beer for $4,500.

Max Elevation: 6,000 feet

Max Vertical Drop: 5,500 feet

Average Daily Vertical: 4,000 feet

Info: proguiding.com 

- SKIING MAGAZINE, DECEMBER 2008

Or hats off to many of my clients

In the beginning it seems like most everybody goes to the mountains for all the right reasons.  We try to get away from the bustling crowds and trade our civilized world for a simpler reality. A world of eternal beauty and guaranteed fairness. We are attracted to a world that lacks judgment about  ones socio-economic background, race, gender and looks. A place full of magic, excitement, challenge and learning opportunity.

Just like in the civilized world, the mountain environment can convey very clearly to us how small and insignificant we are, but the difference is that one can feel good about being small out there. When such powerful places can be associated with fairness, equality and a natural rhythm that stands far above the latest trends, a great calm can come to a person and a deep sense of gratitude for being able to roam the landscape can occur. 

The mountains present challenges for a human and naturally we want to measure our strength against them. Sneakily our motivation changes to "conquering a peak” and “established a line”. We have this inherent drive to control things, make a mark for ourselves and maybe even derive some form of material benefit from what we do in the mountains. 

We get to post that we were the first to do something and it lets us profile ourselves on the web blogs etc. That's great. It is kind of fun. 

Suddenly egos get involved and fame is to be had. Positions in the market place need to be established and most of all money needs to be made.  Before we know it we end up arguing on the internet about the cleanliness about ones ascent style and weather it was worthy of recognition. Some amazing feats have been pulled off in recent mountain history only to be pulled down to mediocrity by unfortunate acts of self promotion and self styled comparisons to historical greatness. The fact of the matter is that 99.9 percent of the population does not give a shit and it is good to remember that. 

The point is that if healthy athletic challenges the desire to talk about it in some senses were suddenly the principal reason of why we go to the mountains, we would express a very linear world view. You know - one that provides knowledge and not necessarily connection with the landscape. 

Our professional or avid recreational involvement might then be based on sponsorship contracts and we might have cornered ourselves nicely into having to project a “civilized world” value system into a wild landscape. Maybe we need that next better photo for the next catalogue if we still want to renew the contract or we haven’t climbed or skied a desperate line lately and are worried about becoming a “has been”. We might have completely leveraged ourself starting a cat or heli operation and now we best be “producing some powder” for that expensive product that the European clients flew all the way to Canada for. It may have seemed like such a good idea to go to work for a gear manufacturing company.  This was going to provide the connecting link to the mountains – now you are attending sales meeting that will most and foremost debate the next goal for the projected growth curve. Making a living in the mountains or based on the mountains has become an industry. This has brought many great things, but it has also (and this is my point) without a doubt dulled our sense of connectedness. Suddenly our zonal decision making can have underlying business decisions without our conscious knowledge. 

Our safety decisions should be based on the rhythm of the landscape and the people we are with. 

Everything else will decrease our safety in the mountains. 

It is like we went out there to get away from the chatter and all we do now is talk. We have taken our civilized stresses into the place that is supposed to give us some relief from all these pressures. Kind of funny – really; until these self imposed stresses start clouding our judgment in the mountains.

We just can’t help ourselves I guess and the other option is not very spectacular. The other option is simply to find out about oneself and the mountains. 

It seems to me that many of my clients over the course of the years have enjoyed a more unencumbered time in the mountains. They never were sidetracked by the societal pressures that start infiltrating ones mountain-live once you start going there professionally. This is all in the process of changing a bit with access the internet, blogs, facebook, you tube etc. 

If we can achieve and retain a simple state of just being in the mountains, I believe that we will make safer decisions, because our mind will be operating more clearly.   This does not sell products, create fame and fortune or the recognition that we are after. It is simply the underlying truth of why we should go to the mountains or any natural landscape. 

Can you still do this or is the client, the photographer, the magazine, the internet or the sponsor subtly influencing our decision making process?

If you are a mountain professional or avid skier or mountaineer you ought to ask yourself the question on a very regular basis. 

Are you still going to the mountains for all the right reasons? It will guarantee you years of future enjoyment and will help you make safer decisions in the mountains.

We responded swiftly:  hot drinks, followed by a nap, then more hot drinks.

It was our approach day for the North Ridge, so it didn’t really matter that it was raining.  It only mattered if it didn’t STOP raining.  And it wasn’t showing any signs of letting up.  We had hiked to the 6000 ft camp on the north side of Baker in a gentle fog, and right as we set up our tent, the fog had shifted to a proper rain.  

As the afternoon wore on through a series of hot drinks and food, we alternated between telling stories (“this one time, …”) and napping.  All the while trying to ignore the sound of rain on the tent.  Last year we got shut down on a week of climbing in Boston Basin by lousy wet weather, right in the middle of August.  As we chatted we kept coming back to the thought that this had better not become a pattern…

Our concern was this:  if the weather system was behind schedule, it would be less likely that we would get a good freeze before the morning.  The North Ridge of Baker has a great variety of challenges, from bergrschrund and crevasse navigation to ice climbing, with steep exposed snow over ice cliffs right up to the summit plateau.  And soft snow conditions are not ideal for any of them.  The forecast was calling for a decent freeze once the clouds cleared; if the freeze were to happen, snow bridges would become less sketchy, footing would become more reliable, and pickets might even become worth pounding in.  

At around 7 pm we emerged to stretch our legs and check the horizon, which was presenting a mix of clouds and some promising shafts of evening light.  But as we drifted off it began again to sprinkle.

When you wake up in early in the (dark) hours of the morning, it is hard to tell from your tent what the conditions outside may bring.  That information can only be fully gathered when you stumble outside to pee.

And sure enough, as I stepped from rock to snow, I saw stars above me and felt a solid, frozen surface beneath my boots.  Ah.  Good.  

We made the long traverse over to the base of the north ridge in the early light, weaving a bit through crevasses at the 6600 foot level, glad all the while for the solid conditions.  And the freeze held up as the pitch steepened below the direct start of the route.  And across several exciting bergschrunds.  The freeze was solid above the gaping ‘schrunds, up the steep snow to gain the ridge proper.  

That rain we had worried so much about?  It put the route in near-perfect condition.  

In the shade of early morning, everything that had been soaked yesterday had now frozen solid in place.  And in those hazardous spots on the route, where rockfall can be a serious concern…that rain helped us out again.  

In order to gain the toe of the ridge we traversed low below the headwall until we were able to gaze straight up at the ice ridge.  Another bergshrund crossing, and we were on the ice pitches.  And as we started up, the sun just was just beginning to reach around the mountain.  So as we climbed up the ice fin, the blue jumbled icefall to our left was lit and shining, whereas the steep ice cliff to our right was cool and shady still.  We were perched on the line between sun and shade, moving up one of the most aesthetic ice pitches in the state.  The only sounds were the solid thunk of our axes, left hand then right, and the contact of crampons kicking ice.  There was just the slightest breeze, the temperature was perfect, the ice a satisfying consistency.

Rain?  What rain?

After the ice pitches the angle eases off, but the exposure holds steady, until just below the summit plateau there are some really, really large crevasses.  By now the sun had warmed our freeze to a comfortable walking consistency, and we traversed above, around, and between the massive crevasses in solid footing.

The weather rules supreme over us all in the mountains, and the more technical the route, the more important it is that conditions line up well – for safety, for quality, and for enjoyment.  The more time you spend in the mountains, the more you come to appreciate how often this ISN’T the case…and how much fun climbing is when it is.

We were smiling all the way back to the car.  

“That’s odd,” you’re thinking, “Why did she stick the word ‘paradise’ to a piece of the Mt. Shuksan landscape?”

Why, indeed?  

In certain Swiss valleys, where certain distinguished, sharp and pointy rock peaks loom overhead, visitors will find the maps describing the area to be riddled with the word.  There is the Rothorn Paradise.  The Sunegga Paradise.  The Schwarzee Paradise.  And of course, the Matterhorn Glacier Paradise.  The summer/winter maps of the valley show them all, wedged peak to peak in one valley.  

As we looked across the valley at the North Face of Mt. Shuksan, Mihai mentioned it first:  “There it is – the White Salmon Glacier Paradise”.  We chuckled.  Mihai has been to the Matterhorn Glacier Paradise, and has seen the network of lifts and trails that connect peaks and valleys there.  So I was quite certain he was being ironic, given the lack of any infrastructure to bring us through the valley to the base of the climb.  

Even though we are in the Cascades, not the Alps, from our vantage point the mountain certainly looks worthy of the term.  The north face of Shuksan rises up from Price Arm to the summit plateau, flanked by cliffs, hanging icefields, and the steep slopes of the White Salmon glacier.  There is deep green on the arm, the still-snow-covered white of the glacier, and the blue of the sky catching the blue of the glacier hanging above the White Salmon basin.  And there isn’t a person to be seen.

Six hours of bushwhacking and snow field climbing later, we rested in the afternoon light on the Price Arm, the north face of Shuksan rising above us.  Mihai broke the silence.  

“Which would be best to access the White Salmon Glacier Paradise, a train or a tram?”  After some discussion, we decide on a train.

It seemed almost sacrilege – how dare we dream of a cush European mountain train weaving through the Cascade wilderness?  But dream we did.  As the evening light deepened, we planned the base area, the mid-station (it would need to travel into the mountain, tunneling up to come out on the summit plateau, with a window-stop part way up for viewing the hanging ice fields) – and debated if the summit should hold the restaurant, or just an observatory.  

After the hours of bushwhacking, this was perhaps our coping mechanism for the suffering we had experienced in the White Salmon basin.

As the sun set, we allowed the train jokes to fade from our conversation, and watched the sky darken as we settled into our bivy spots.  The warm temperatures of the day cooled a bit but there wasn’t a freeze in sight.  When my alarm went off at 2:30 am the stars were still going strong, but by the time we were walking up the first slopes of the north face it was already light.  Do they have these long summer days in the other Paradise?

In spite of the high freezing levels the climb was in excellent shape – snow paved the way up the steep and exposed slopes and across the big crevasse before the snow couloir.  It never did freeze, but the sloppy snow was never worse than ankle deep, and there was even some firm snow on the upper shaded slopes.  But by the time we reached the Upper Curtis Glacier Paradise at 8100 feet, the sun was strong and warm…and it was only 7:30 am.  We paused for a break and another round of breakfast (was the oatmeal at 3:00 am a late night snack or an early morning feed?).  Perched at the top of the climb, we were treated to a view of all the peaks to the north:  the Cascadian Glacier Paradise.  In every aspect, the north face of Shuksan has a wild feel to it  – the access cross-country, the climb itself, and the views it offers are all rugged and beautiful.  

We decided the train should definitely stop there for a view.  

In order to reach the summit of Shuksan, we wrapped around the mountain to the east, leaving gear at the base of the summit pyramid to scamper up the rock.  Suddenly we had company – lots of it – in the form of groups from two to ten people, crawling up and down the last 400 feet to the top.  It was a sunny Saturday, after all.  As we wove amongst them I debated internally whether they would appreciate our euro train jokes – but I didn’t try any out.

The way out from the summit of Shuksan is a long one.  By the time you have passed across the Sulphide Glacier Paradise, down Hell’s Highway to the Upper Curtis Glacier Paradise, then down the upper slopes of the White Salmon Glacier Paradise you have descended over 2000 feet, but there are miles still ahead.  From the top of the White Salmon we descended the Fisher Chimneys, a section of 4th class rock scrambling that leads down to the trail leading to Lake Ann and, eventually, the parking lot.  The chimneys were free of snow, but the way from their base out to civilization was not.  By the time we arrived at the road near Mt. Baker ski area, we had been forced to once again travel cross country, and even do a bit of light bushwhacking, as the trail appeared and disappeared under the snow.  

Could this, too, be a scenic train ride?

Tired and hungry, we hitched a ride back to Mihai’s car with some picnicking about-to-be newlyweds.  Our full circuit of the Mt. Shuksan Glacier Paradise – highlighted by the north face route -  was complete.  And no train or tram had helped us make our way through the rugged terrain.  It was, in the words of Martin, the full Cascadian experience.   

May 26th to May 30th 2008

By Evan Wang

"Well, this really bites!"  "What was I thinking when I signed up for this?!"  "This is not my idea of fun!"  Those and several other choice thoughts were being muttered under my breath as I plodded slowly up the Kautz glacier behind Martin Volken on day three of our five day trip.  Equipment issues, lack of experience, giant blisters, and deficiencies in my technique all compounding to exhaust me beyond caring.  All spring as I prepared for this trip I thought about how exciting it would be to ski off Mount Rainier.  At this moment however, what I really wanted was an avalanche to come down and put me out of my misery.

What exactly compelled me, a long time avid resort bound snowboarder and skier, to try this ski mountaineering trip?  It started with the purchase of alpine touring (AT) ski gear a few years ago, which seems to be all the rage lately.  I had climbed a few mountains by the traditional method, and when I attended an REI clinic where Martin mentioned a ski descent of Mount Rainier, I enthusiastically signed up despite my relative inexperience at touring.  Was I in for an eye-opener!

My first inkling came when I met second guide Ben Haskell and the other clients: Scott Kushino, a longtime Pro Guiding Service client who was back for his second go round having gotten sick just prior to last year's trip, and Jim Bailey, another veteran PGS client.  Not only was I the newbie with PGS and the least experienced touring skier of the bunch, I noticed that my standard mountain climbing pack was considerably larger than everyone else's pack and my alpine twin-tip Salomon fatties with Naxo bindings probably weighed as much as everyone else's skis and binding combined – a "slackcountry" setup as Ben would note.  Apparently in the light and fast-moving world of ski touring size does matter and bigger is definitely not better.

We started out leaving Paradise on Monday heading up the Muir snowfields under overcast skies with hot and muggy conditions.  Scott and Jim zoomed ahead with me struggling mightily to keep up.  By the time I had turned onto the Paradise glacier to our first camp site, the skies opened up and the rain came drizzling down.  We all enjoyed a generally miserable evening in our tents.

The next morning the rain had stopped and we made our way across the Paradise, Cowlitz, and Ingraham glacier towards the Whitman glacier and our destination of Little Tahoma Peak.  Martin had a bad feeling about the snow conditions and determined that our return route would become too hazardous should we spend the hours continuing to the summit.  Since we all wanted to eventually return safely, we did the prudent thing and turned around.  The mountain was not in a giving mood that day.  On the way back though, we enjoyed a view of the huge icefall on the lower Ingraham.  Martin, Jim, and Scott toured all the way up the Paradise glacier to Camp Muir and down the Muir Snowfields back to our camp.  Ben and I took a more direct route where he patiently taught touring skills 101 and worked on correcting a number of my self-taught bad habits.

Our plan for the third day had been to make the short move over to the Wilson Cleaver and position ourselves for a charge up the Fuhrer Finger.  Martin, however, had doubts about the safety of climbing and skiing the Finger.  As I learned, plans change on a dime based on what the mountain gives and you had better be prepared to adapt.  Having anticipated a short tour, I neglected to pack lunch in an accessible spot – a decision I would soon regret.  Our new plans called for us to traverse the Lower Nisqually, the Wilson, and the Van Trump glaciers all the way over and up the Kautz glacier.  What started out as a short day turned into a very long day indeed!

All of this had me climbing the steep Kautz glacier towards our destination of Camp Hazard in the afternoon with my tank well past empty.  By the time I reached camp later that afternoon, I knew that it would likely be foolish and possibly dangerous to go for the summit the next morning given the in the shape I was in, so I elected to call an end to my climb rather than flounder high up on the mountain.

Now Camp Hazard is a cool place to stay on the mountain.  I remembered that it was named after Joseph Hazard and not for the fact that it is located below a very impressive ice cliff.  Also, with all the "blue bags" that we were toting after four days of touring, the camp would also have been aptly named Camp Biohazard.  The vista of neighboring peaks to the south was spectacular and all in all, it was a very neat place to spend a rest day recovering for my descent down the mountain. 

Martin, Jim, Scott and Ben meanwhile geared up for the summit charge at first light of the morning.  About four and a half hours later they were back in camp where Ben proceeded to tell me about the fabulous powder run coming down from the summit.  At first I was very much inclined not to believe him because in the previous few days he had overused the phrase "it's going to be blower" to describe all the potential snow conditions we'd encounter, so much so that I nicknamed him "Blower Boy."  However, when Jim and Scott corroborated the story, and Martin commented how rare finding powder off the summit was, I started believing him.

After one more cold night at Camp Hazard, we broke camp the next morning for our ski descent under bluebird skies.  Conditions were superb coming down the Turtle Snowfield to the Wilson glacier and I was having a blast finally skiing downhill for a change.  Near the base of the Fuhrer Finger, Martin commented that with the snow conditions being the way they were, a run down the Finger would probably be excellent later that afternoon.  We cached our heavy loads, busted out the skins and ski crampons, and started climbing the Finger.  After the third man-killer rock whizzed past the party, I learned what the term "fast transition" was all about as we quickly switched from climbing mode to downhill mode to get out of there.  Once again, the mountain was reminding us who the boss was.

With conditions still being superb, we once again charged down the Wilson and onto the lower Nisqually glacier making turn after turn on fine spring corn.  "Harvest Time" as Ben would say.  Too soon the Nisqually Bridge came into sight as we passed the toe of the Nisqually glacier.  We sat down next to the headwaters of the Nisqually River basking in the sun while Martin went to retrieve his truck.

While I felt a small amount of disappointment at not being able to reach and ski off of the summit, a near 8000' ski run wasn't a bad consolation.  I had learned a great deal this week about what ski mountaineering was about and what skills were needed to pull a trip like this off.  Yo-yoing runs out of bounds of the local ski areas with my pseudo alpine setup did little to prepare me for a touring trip of this magnitude.  However with some education, different equipment, and a bit of work learning some new skills hopefully I'll be back in a few years for a more successful second go at this.

Evan Wang

May 2008

Isn’t this April?  Late April?  How are we supposed to ski powder and drink beer in the sun when it’s RAINING?

I’ve no doubt that the members of Team Weenus were thinking something to that extent as we met for breakfast that morning.  Plus wondering what it meant for our chances on the Haute Route.  And a lesser group might well have lost just a bit of luster…but not these guys.  Not an eyelash was batted, not even when we tumbled out of the valley bus to an empty tram station at the Grands Montets.  Not when we pulled into the midstation of Lognan in a whiteout.  And not even as we picked our way down from the top tram through a fog broken only by the odd rock outcropping.  

Who are these people??

What IS a weenus, anyways??

To save you a trip to Wikipedia:  apparently, your weenus is the bit of skin that covers your elbow.  Usually wrinkled.  And most everyone has two, but no one really knows what the plural of weenus is (weenae?  weenuses?).  But its most redeeming quality – in the eyes of 12 year old boys across the country, not to mention our group of (ahem!) more civilized grown-ups – is…well, you know.  And if you just rolled your eyes…admit it.  It’s good for a giggle.  

Our first day brought surprisingly good skiing – powder turns below the granite spires that line the Amethyst Glacier.  The snow increased throughout the day, and by dark there was over 50 cm and counting.  When we piled ourselves and or gear into a taxi the next morning, there were reports of almost a meter (and still snowing).  

But Team Weenus was undaunted.  

And one of the fantastic things about getting from Chamonix to Zermatt is…there are many ways to skin the cat, so to speak.  So 1.5 hours on a taxi, and we are riding lifts up Verbier.  Lots of lifts.  Even lifts that are closed (apparently, it helps to know people in Switzerland:  Martin knew our taxi driver, who knew the UIAGM guide at Verbier who knew the guy who could start up the mega tram – the size of a Euro disco – even thought it was closed…for the season).  

The storm that hit Chamonix was localized, and Verbier had received considerably less snow.  So we picked our way through clouds and fog to the Prafleurie hut.  When we arrived there we were one of two groups – everyone else had cancelled.  And the next day, when we lounged on the stone deck of the Dix hut, basking in the sun (now totally unobstructed by those pesky clouds), we watched a steady stream of skiers come in from Arolla.  These were the rest of the skiers that had been trying, like us, to start the Haute Route in the snow.  But theirs was a greater ratio of taxi to skiing.

By this point, Team Weenus had their show dialed:  gear (mostly) in the right place at the right time, techniques (read:  kick turns), and really good weenus jokes.  At least we thought so.  Turns out the weenus requires care on a ski tour, lest it become cracked, chaffed, or – god forbid – sunburned.  

Part way up the climb from the Dix hut there is a plateau on the glacier, from which you get your first view of the Matterhorn.  And from there, as you move up, across, and ski down over the peaks and cols of the route, the Matterhorn grows ever closer.  Until you find yourself at the final col, the Col de Valpelline.  Looking up:  the chunk of rock you’ve heard so much about, up close and personal.  Looking down:  thousands of feet of skiing…past and through icefalls, below soaring cliffs.  And as you work your way down the valley, the chunk of rock begins to take on its more familiar shape.  Begins to get that crook in it.  Until, at last, you are in Zermatt, and the Matterhorn looks every bit the way you have seen the pictures.  But…real.  

Team Weenus took this all in stride.  Watching others struggle with kick turns up the Col de Mont Brulee.  Unpacking the picnic lunch from the Vignette hut to discover a slab of cured bacon and an entire block of cheese.  Worst of all, having to pull over for another rosti, and a beer, and a coffee, before skiing the final corn ribbon all the way into town.  

It is true what they say, that when you start with suffering, the reward is all the sweeter.  But in the case of Team Weenus, when you start undaunted in the face of suffering…the reward is not only sweet…it kicks the ass of what you thought it would be.

The trip started with the crew meeting up at our first stop, Chamonix

France, on Sunday afternoon at the most excellent Hotel Gustavia.  The Hotel

is a great choice as it is right across from the train station and a short

walk to the center of town in one direction, or to the teleferique for the

Aiguille du Midi in the other.  (It also has a great bar that gets lively on

occassion...).  So we met up with our guides, Martin Volken, owner of Pro

Guiding Service out of Seattle and a Swiss certified, uber mtn guide; and

Mike Hattrup, famous ski film star, ski mountaineering guide and manager of

K2's backcountry and telemark programs.  A discussion followed about the

options for the next two days in the Chamonix valley, of which there are

more than you can shake a stick at, and a gear check to ensure everyone had

the reuired gear (one bozo in the group didn't have half the required gear

- good thing there were lots of shops around!).

Day1:  After a full breakfast provided by the hotel, we set our sights on

the first target of the trip:  the area in-between the Grand Montets and the

Aiguille D'Argentiere with a crossing of one of the cols so that we could

decend down into the town of Le Tour.  Old Man Winter had not yet let go of

his grip on the Alps this year as he had dumped 8" in 2 of the previous 3

nights and it was snowing hard again.  After riding the trams to the top, we

stepped out into a full-blown winter storm.  Getting down to the Argentiere

glacier was a unique experience for me since, led by Martin and Mike, we had

to ski down in very poor vis using a compass, altimeter and referencing

notes indicating when a change of direction was required.  All the while,

ensuring that we didn't ski into any crevasses that could have appeared on

the documented route.  Pretty gnarly.  After getting down the glacier, it

was concluded that the wind-loaded slopes that we were hoping to scale in

order to gain either the Col du Passon or Chardonnet, which would launch

onto the other side of the ridge to Le Tour, were not good ideas due to

avalanche risk.  So, we switched gears and worked our way up along the

glacier to the Argentiere Hut (think a buidling the size of a small hotel

with bunkrooms, kitchen, dinning room etc - enough to fit 40 people  - but

out in the middle of the Alps with views you cannot imagine) and from there

up to the Col du Tour Noir.  We had a solid powder run down to the

Argentiere glacier and then down along side it to the ski run down all the

way to the valley floor.  Day 1 was in the bag - it was time for some chow.

Martin suggested we drive through the Mt Blanc tunnel and eat in Italy.

Mike knew a quaint restaurant in the first town near Courmayeur so we drove

for less than 30 mins and posted up for, swear to God, a 10-course meal.

Difference there is that each course had at least 5 different plates of

different specialties being passed around.  Needless to say, we rolled out

of there - a great end to the first day.

Day 2 took us up the Aiguille du Midi in hopes we could grab some steep

lines, and make our way to Courmayer in Italy and back all via skiing and

skinning in the backcountry between the two. Ullr, God of snow, was still

content to throw winter in our path for another day so we had to play it

safe and stick to a decent down the majestic Vallee Blanche.  First we had

to peek into the Couloir Pubelle (sp?) which had me nervous just looking

into the 50 degree shot that dissappears out of sight - maybe next time.

After navigating the knife edge ridge roped up to each other in groups of 3 or

4, we were set to ski.  The decent is pretty tame all things considered, but

great views (when we had the occassional opening) and a classic line so it

was good to bag it nonetheless.  Post skiing we packed up the van and headed

over the pass to Switzerland.  We were headed to our next stop - Zermatt,

home of the Matterhorn.  Before getting there, we needed to fill up, so we

stopped at a little winery for some excellent Swiss wine and a meal of

various melted cheeses from the surrounding area.  It was really tasty to

say the least.  Once again, we rolled out of there.

Zermatt is totally cool and the drive between Chamonix Valley and there is

so scenic.  No gas powered cars allowed in town so you park and get picked

up by the hotel taxi.  Picturesque surroundings in the heart of the Alps.

Day 3 dawned to bluebird conditions and one look out the window showed the

stunning view of the Matterhorn in full sunlight.  I said "Damn! look at

that" as I scrambled to grab the camera for fear it would all somehow

dissappear before my eyes.  The plan for the day was to use the incredible

lift infrastructure to get up top of the Klein Matterhorn and then ski and

hike to the summit of the Breithorn before an epic decent down to the

Grenzgletscher glacier in view of various peaks including Liskamm at (4527

m) and Monte Rosa (4634m - 2nd tallest peak in the Alps).  Climbing the

summit required first ski crampons, then boot crampons as the wind was

scouring everything down to ice up high.  It was pretty intense as the wind

was blowing hard and it was cold - cold enough for several of the team to

get frost nip.  Sunny powder run of 12'+ of pow flanked by icefalls and

fields of crevasses on either side at times.  Once we gained the valley

floor, we found ourselves in a bobsled run carved into the glacier by the

skiers over time.  Damn was that fun, swooping around blind turns, at times

into and out of the glacier all the way a ski run that took us to the bottom

and into town. This was a killer day.  Meal in town that night where we

witnessed an annual race that starts at 10pm and has 3 heats of competitors

embark on a course that takes them up to the top and over to the Italian

town on the other side (~8k feet of skinning up in the middle of the

freezing cold night with no support).  These guys are aggro!  Day 4 was

another clear day and the group opted for a day of taking advantage of the

incredible lift systems of Zermatt and Cervina and getting in some serious

vert.  (Jackson Hole can stuff a sock in it as far as I am concerned - this

place has ten 80-person trams operating everyday - step up to the plate

Jackson and quit your bellyaching about your one tram!).

That evening we packed up and drove around to the next valley to Saas Fee -

another epic ski town in the Alps.  Similar to Zermatt but smaller and less

commercial, the town has a cool vibe and we were stoked for another couple

days of adventure.  

Day 5 took us to the top of the lifts where we skinned

up and to the shoulder of the Allalinhorn.  Looking down into the Valle

Anzasca and up to Monte Rosa and seeing some skin tracks around was just

incredible.  There is some BIG backcountry that people were getting

after. Nice powder decent to about mid-way down for a lunch break and then,

with some grumbling from Chip Dickenson (yes, we were skiing with "The" Chip

Dickenson!), rallied for another skin up and big decent to town along an

incredible line through and next to the glacier below the peaks of Dom and

Nadelhorn.

Last day was a little stormy at first, but it cracked off enough so that

they let us up the train so we could exit a tunnel that dropped us out in

the middle of a vast glacier where we skinned up to a fabulous saddle below

the Strahlhorn.  Big fields of powder awaited us and we dove into boot

top deep glory and worked our way down through various pitches and open

faces, one after another.  The sun was doing its thing so the conditions got

heavier as we decended but it was still rippable, just let the skis run.

This last run took us down to Saas Almagell, the next valley over from Saas

Fee, where after a relatively short walk we were met by the short bus.  A

short ride down into Brig and to the train station where the group went

their separate ways (either staying in Brig or heading to Geneva or Zurich

for flights out).

All in all, an epic trip that we plan to do again in a few years.  Just

an outrageous mix of taking advantage of the lifts to get to the high alpine

environment, skinning, peak-bagging, backcountry skiing with big decents all

the while in incredible surroundings. 

What we found was surprising. Chair Peak is not known for good rock - quite the opposite acutally. It is a little known fact that the highly fractured and brittle rock that seems to characterize the entire Chair Peak area sits on high quality Snoqualmie batholith. 

I figured this out when I went to climb the seldom visited West Ridge of Chair Peak a few days earlier. The rock certainly seemed good on the polished slabs right below the North Face and there seemed to be a promising line coming straight down from the summit area.

I guess you never really know until you get there. So we hiked up into the Chair Peak basin, switched over onto the North side, walked passed the classic North Face route for maybe 200 meters to the intended route entrance. The temperature was surprisingly chilly. It took a while to warm up, but we slowly started off on the first pitch. This pitch is characterized by an obvious - slightly right trending crack that is easily protectable. The climbing was fun, the rock was very solid (seriously) and the pitch went at about 5.9.

The first part of the pitch was steep for about 60 feet. Then we got to a right trending bench and then the crack went straight up to a cove below a slight overhang. There were good anchor possibilities in this cove (could be wet).

On the second pitch we went around this slight overhand to the right and then straight up in solid rock with fun climbing up to 5.7. At the top of the second pitch we came to a dish that had steep dihedrals on either side. 

We decided to climb the left dihedral (easier), since the right side was wet. The dihedral offers more 5.7 climbing in decent rock. The second half of pitch three made us climb straight up in heathery terrain to a solid tree belay. 

The fourth pitch trended slightly rightward towards an obvious gully over less attractive heathery benches. We climbed up into the gully and made our fourth anchor once we got to the base of a short and steep headwall. 

The fifth pitch gave us the option of climbing straight up a good looking crack (it was wet) or some steep left trending face climbing. We climbed that and it went at about 5.8. Exactly where we crested over the steep part, the rock went to hell, but the climbing was over. We found ourselves on a short and easy ridge that led in 50 feet of scrambling to the summit crest. 

We popped onto the crest about 15 to 20 yards to the west of the true summit. From the crest we scrambled a few yards to a little notch and then easy up to the true summit for maybe 20 yards. 

For the descent route we took the standard route down. We burned up about 4 hours to get from the base of the route to the summit. 

We rate the climb at Grade 3; 5.9. We had a full rack, 2 60 meter half ropes and rock shoes. One 60 meter single rope would do it. 

All in all, a very positive surprise on Chair Peak. We felt like we were actually climbing an alpine rock route.   

Midway through our trip Martin said “We should talk about alternatives to climbing the Matterhorn.”  The weather forecast indicated snow from the approaching storm would trump our plans.  The previous day, while drinking a bottle of Humagne Rouge wine on our hotel balcony, we had a clear view of the Matterhorn.  Now, as Martin named several climbs that would remain in shape after the storm, began the wait to see if the meteorologist was wrong.  

Meanwhile, it was a fine day to climb the Breithorn Half Traverse.  The client:guide ratio was 2:1 on all climbs except the Matterhorn, where it was 1:1.  While simul-climbing as a threesome we learned the accordion move and practiced hornology, in which the rope is passed on one side of a rock horn to create a dynamic belay system of counterbalanced climbers.  There were airy sections of ridgeline that tested my faith in hornology.  From the Breithorn summit I looked at the Matterhorn across the valley and wondered if our chance to climb it during this trip had passed.  

It rained in Zermatt most of the next day, which we spent in the museum and our hotel, wondering how deep was the new snow on the Hörnli Ridge.  That evening the restaurant maître d' brought us free Galliano coffees, perhaps because he sensed our apprehension but more probably because Martin’s Stalden accent was a change from tourist twang.  

The next morning the hut warden had encouraging news.  We rode a gondola to Schwarzsee, hiked to the hut in fine weather and preview-climbed the lower section of the route.  Because Martin is a local Bergführer our hut perquisites included a second helping of dinner and a room to ourselves.  I slept well without earplugs.  

Our round trip began at 04:30 and ended 8½ hours later.  We were in nearly constant motion, requiring specific effort to notice things such as the beautiful sunrise.  Early on Martin reset a climber’s dislocated shoulder and then tried to convince him to go down.  The climber agreed but each time we looked back he was ascending.  The climbing difficulty and exposure were less than on our Breithorn route, but of double-marathon duration.  We placed no pro but used the fixed ropes and ironware; a climbing technique Spike calls “French free.”  Sometimes there was no avoiding the ice chips and gravel dislodged by climbers higher up but our helmets protected us.  The biggest dangers in my mind were falling rocks, I sent two big ones down the east face, and being swept off should a higher party fall.  We put on crampons above the Solvay hut and, because of the new snow, kept them on throughout the rest of the ascent and much of the descent.  The PGS gear list specified steel crampons so I blame only myself that my aluminum crampons now have rounded points.  We returned to the hut for lunch and ibuprofen with a Heineken chaser.  On the way back to Zermatt I stood in view of the Schwarzsee web cam on the chance someone back home would see me.  

Unlike similar programs at other companies PGS began its itinerary 30 miles north of Zermatt.  The first two days were spent climbing the Wiwannihorn and Augstchummenhorn (often called “the other peak” by visitors unable to pronounce 5 contiguous consonants).  Initially this seemed inferior to programs that start in Zermatt and climb two additional 4,000 meter peaks.  

However, the PGS itinerary provided a richer experience.  During the initial two days we saw a wider range of countryside, animals and plants than we saw in 4 days around Zermatt.  On the Wiwannihorn Ibex climbed just meters away from us.  The daunting Bietschhorn dominated the northern view.  In the cirque was a herd of endemic bicolor goats and thick-coated sheep cooling themselves on a snow patch.  The Wiwanni weather was better than that in Zermatt Valley, and Wiwanni was uncrowded.  

We reached the Wiwannihut via an interpretive trail with native plant identification cards.  Martin knew where the warden kept the real coffee so we were spared instant.  Martin is a coffeeholic and vowed to purchase an espresso machine for every Swiss climbing hut if he becomes a rich guide.  He also knew a bottle of Swiss liqueur was cached on the Wiwannihorn summit, with which we toasted our first climb of the program.  

Clients typically meet their PGS guide at the train station in Visp on the first day of the program.  By prior arrangement we met in the village of Ausserberg, which is on the road to the Wiwannihorn trailhead.  There are two hotels in Ausserberg, the Sonnehalde and the Bahnhof.  We stayed at the later.  It was very convenient to arrive at Zurich Airport, catch a train at the airport station and disembark in front of the hotel.  

The online schedule showed two trains going to Ausserberg from the airport (flughafen) each hour.  By taking the one leaving at 39 minutes after the hour we didn’t have to switch trains at the downtown Zurich station.  Our only train change was in Goppenstein, where we got off the first train, stayed at the same track and platform for 14 minutes (these are Swiss trains, you can rely on the timing), and caught the second train for a short ride to Ausserberg.  

Spending a few days in Ausserberg is a pleasant way to get over jet lag and acclimatize.  Hiking trails lead from town to the forested slopes below the Wiwannihorn.  The local brewery, Suonen, and the grocery store are closed Sundays.  The Wiwannihut sells food but it was helpful to have purchased trail snacks beforehand.  

The price of the PGS program included gondola rides, rescue insurance and transportation from Visp to Zermatt, which are added expenses with some guiding companies.  The program is a good choice for clients who are capable of climbing the Matterhorn unguided but who value local knowledge, especially route finding.  Although native Zermatt Valley guides can’t promise a trip will include free coffee, cached liquor, a private hut room or sunny skies the odds are more favorable.  

--------------------------------

Web Links used above:

Humagne Rouge

Museum

Zermatt hotel

hiked http://www.zermatt.ch/e/bergerlebnis/wanderwege/27.html

Hörnli Hut

cam 

itinerary http://www.proguiding.com/tripDoc/program_33.doc

Wiwanni hut 

Hotel Bahnhof 

Hotel Sonnenhalde

train schedule

Suonen brewery 

An exceptional climb of purity! 

Fred – the undisputed Alpine King of the Cascades himself said it in his Alpine Guide Book. 

The striking feature on the North side of Forbidden Peak had been on my list for a long time. The approach is long and one climbs already. 

Dave Jordan and I parked to car at the Eldorado Creek trailhead and rode our bikes up to the Boston Basin trailhead. The floods in the late fall of 2006 washed out part of the road and the road might not be fixed until August….

We arrived at the Boston Basin trailhead completely drenched in sweat (it was 100 degrees that day in Cascade Lowlands….), but we saved about a half an hour in time and the bikes promised to be sweet on the way down. 

What can one say. We had carefully packed overnight packs, but quite a bit of technical gear. We had about 7000 feet of ascent to do to our bivy site on the Boston – Forbidden Col. We had Sharkfin Col to go over and it was going to hurt – there was little doubt. 

As it turned out, we moved well, hydrated well and talked ourselves into believing that it was not even that hot… We arrived at our camp at around four pm and spent the rest of the day hanging out in the spectacular Boston – Forbidden Col. 

It was warm out – even at 7pm there was little cooling going on. 

We got up at first daylight, had a quick breakfast and headed for the toe of our buttress. 

I will do a bit more documenting in this portion of the report, since some people might be interested in doing the route and the description in the Beckey guide is pretty meager. 

Head for the toe of the North West Buttress staying a bit lower than you think you need to. The area right near the toe is pretty crevassed and can dead end you easily. There is a small icefall right below the toe at around 6800 feet. Stay below that and swing around it to the right side of the buttress. Ascend the small upper lobe of the Forbidden Glacier to about 8400 feet and head to the left. You will see  a distinct shelf that lets you access the actual buttress at around 8500 feet right below where the buttress flattens out into a saddle like feature. From here ascend the buttress on easy and good rock. The abruptly steepening part of the buttress where Beckey describes the Chimney seemed less obvious than anticipated. There are several steeper spots before you reach the actual chimney. 

You will reach the chimney at around 8100 feet or so. The chimney is (as correctly described) on the left side of the ridge. This feature is very distinct and you will recognize it once you are there. Before you get to the actual chimney you will reach a short section of steep rock that is very “perma-defrost” affected. (Maybe the rock is better right on the crest there…) The climbing is not particularly difficult, but certainly 5th class and you will find some very questionable rock there. 

The actual chimney is steep, but solid and easy to protect (5.7 to 5.8). The chimney opens up towards the top. It seemed easiest to us to exit the chimney straight over a steep bulge (maybe the crux move) rather than getting lured out to the left into increasingly committing terrain. 

From the top of the chimney, the terrain angles back and offers several pitches of moderate and enjoyable climbing on sound rock all the way to the summit. (It took us about 4 hours from the glacier to the summit and about 5 hours from our bivy to the summit)

The descent down the West Ridge offered no surprises. The access couloir presented a bit of a challenge at the bottom. The couloir is detached at its exit and required a rappel over the moat.

I would have to agree, this route is excellent, it has purity and Fred you are the man.  

WARNING: There is nothing exceptional in this trip report. There were no major climbing or skiing achievements, no unnamed peaks and glaciers and no “machine” clients (on the contrary…).

A question for those of you still reading: Would you prefer to sleep at the Branca hut or bivy at the Sahale – Boston col? It was about 5 pm on Tuesday, June 26th. Martin and I ( actually Martin did almost all of the work) had just finished setting up our bivy site; the most interesting thing ( at least for me) was to see Martin probing with the poles one foot away from my pad, to make sure I won’t be sleeping on the cornice hanging above Davenport glacier… I then asked him the same question, which was a natural continuation of our previous discussions of the pros and cons ( none, if you ask me) of having a European type hut in Boston basin.

The trip started as usual. I convinced Martin to let me drive, figuring that my old Saturn would be less appealing to crackhead Davie should he drop by the trailhead that night. I also got to demonstrate my Formula 1 driving skills on the Cascade River road. An update on the prospects of the road past the Eldorado trailhead (really beaten up in a couple of spots): we’ve been told at the Marblemount ranger station that crews will be doing some intense studying over the next several weeks and hopefully will have a plan by the beginning of the heavy usage period in October. I also had to ask Martin another naïve question: how long do you think if would have taken in Switzerland to have that road fixed?

The approach up to Boston basin was “fun” as usual, at least it wasn’t pouring like the last time I had been there. The lower camp welcomed us with some spiffy wind and I am sure both of us were wondering (donning windbreakers, gloves and headbands) what the wind might look like overnight at 8600 feet. The ascent continued up the moraine and then onto the Quien Sabe. The glacier was pretty straightforward, although with soft conditions in the heat of that cloudless afternoon.

We made it to the col in about 6 hours from the car. Throughout the evening we kept watching some high clouds coming from the west but fortunately they didn’t aggregate and conditions during the night were pretty good, with minimal wind and alternating clear and cloudy skies (I can attest to that since, as usual, I got essentially no sleep). The next morning a nice sunrise over Mt. Logan greeted us as we were leaving the col behind and starting with some easy but very exposed climbing on the traverse over the shoulder of Boston and then onto the glacier.

Because of the partly cloudy night and also because of a lot of recent, unconsolidated snow, conditions were very soft on the glacier. The postholing quickly dissipated the fun and I didn’t object when Martin offered to get in front and break trail. The feeling of guilt was also a factor in the initiation of a short dialogue:

Client: With conditions so soft, there will be a lot of work traversing the Horseshoe basin on the descent…

Martin: So…

Client: So I was thinking, maybe we should just go back, over Sahale and have a leisurely descent down the Sahale arm

Martin: There is really no good reason to blow the North Face off other than our laziness

Client: And this is not enough…?

Martin: NO

So we kept on going, reaching the base of Buckner’s North Face in a little over 2 hours from the col. Conditions on the climb were pretty good, firmer snow, excellent for cramponing, no icy spots. We simulclimbed the whole thing, only using two axes in the final couloir, below the summit. We made it to the top in almost 1.5 hours from the base, absorbing the views and checking the summit register: no other entries for 2007, only 14 parties during all of 2006. Again, I couldn’t stop asking: how many entries for 2006 in the summit register of Grand Zebru ( if there is such a thing)?

It was all downhill from there. The long traverse of the Horseshoe basin in slushy snow, the climb back up to the Sahale arm in intense reflector oven heat and crossing a wet slide, falling chest deep in a snow crack… Upon reaching Sahale arm, I see Martin looking north and saying: We could be at the lower camp in Boston basin in 1 hour! Looking at the nice rolling slopes of the Sahale arm and thinking about more traversing through slush and at the “green death” on the Boston basin descent, I categorically refused and we began descending down the Sahale arm towards the Cascade Pass. Initially it was all fun but then I started getting what I had just signed up for: some sketchy traverses without crampons on firmer snow slopes lower on the Arm, endless hiking on the Cascade pass trail feeling the blisters mushroom on my feet…by the time I was sloooowly dragging my feet down the road I realized that Martin was right: the best way to deal with the pain is to get through it as quickly as possible, not to extend the agony! 

So all in all it was almost 7000 feet elevation gain the first day, sleeping in the wildest place I ever slept in, 4 hours climbing to the summit and a 8 hour slog back to the car. I only have one more question for all of you: what is your acceptable ratio of climbing fun to approach and descent pain (just to see if an Aiguille du Midi cable car would be justified in the North Cascades…)

DISCLAIMER: The opinions expressed or implied by this trip report in no way reflect the official position of Pro Guiding, Pro Ski Shop or their employees!

(by Martin - Mihai is very strong. He grew up in cold-war Rumania and he secretly revels in this kind of deprivation of amenities ....)

Scott Kushino, trusty friend and client finally fessed up about his stomach condition, so he decided to stay behind. Hattrup and I thought - jeez, a day late, in the rain with only 2 clients left....

So we left in the fog with moisture laden clouds and made it to our camp at around 8100 feet on the edge of the Paradise Glacier just before the weather starting explaining who is boss around here. 

The next morning under freezing rain and sleet, we left for our first objective - Little Tahoma. Well, we could not see much for the first couple of hours and M and M were working for a living. We traversed the Cowlitz and Ingraham glacier and low and behold the weather started to get a bit better. Our confidence increased and pretty soon we were on the Whitman Glacier. The summit slopes of Little Tahoma are quite steep. There is certainly rockfall hazard, some crevasse fall hazard, and all the things that make ski mountaineering objectives just that. Visibility came and went, but we kept on keeping on, since our "clients" Peter Avolio and Ron Pettet are machines. To our surprise, we topped out on a narrow and exposed summit ridge (11113 feet). 

All things considered one of the cooler ski mountaineering objectives of the area. People say that the views are incredible from up there. We would not have known....

We reversed our tracks and found our tents on the Paradise Glacier thanks to GPS. This tour would have been very serious without the GPS.

The next day we transferred to a little bivy spot on the Wilson Cleaver at about 9500 feet. This entailed crossing the Nisqually Glacier at 9000 feet in another whiteout. Dang.... Mount Rainier produces some big crevasses....

We could see some blue sky now from time to time. Just enough to see that there was clear blue sky right above us. Sure enough by the time we made it to camp, we were above the clouds. 

The next morning at 3am the alarm went off and I expressed doubts about the skiability of our intended route - the Fuhrer Finger. Mike told me to shut up and have a cup of coffee before I open my mouth and say stupid things again. 

It was amazing how that worked. 

From our camp we were in perfect position to the "Finger". The snow was hard and frozen. Perfect climbing conditions. The ascent went off without a hitch, but we were concerned about the skiability. The snow was frozen, very rough and starting to be sun cupped. Well, we made it to the summit in about 5 hours from camp, told ourselves that we were very cool (which is true...) and started our ski descent. 

It turned out perfect. The skiing was actually very good. The sun had warmed it all up nicely, the weather was perfect and the scenery was spectacular. Rockfall in the Finger is certainly something to watch out for and the crevasses on the upper Nisqually really present more of a technical challenge than the Finger itself. The whole tour is really more of a mountaineering outing. You just happen to have skis with you. 

Oh, one other thing; the descent is huge. 10000 feet of turns, have a nice day! 

At around 1 pm, we were back in camp in brilliant sunshine. We decided to stay up there for the rest of the day, do some bragging, caffeinating and general hanging out. Maybe some of the most productive nothing-doing I have done in a while...

What a sunset... what a place to spend the night - especially if you have nothing better to do than drink a cup of coffee "slacktrain style" when you wake up because you already completed your objective. That is what we did, right before we skied the "leftover" 4000 feet of perfect corn to Paradise.

I do not know much about Greek mythology, but this Sub Range of the mighty Waddington massif certainly seems like one of those places where an international gathering of gods might have taken place. Kind of like the G-8 summit of ancient times...

Pantheon apparently is the temple of all goods and they all seem to have claimed a mountain summit in this area. 

I love it, a bunch of gods from all over the great world religions decided to come together in this vast wilderness and stay. 

The great god Byamee of the Australian Aboriginal Mythology is protected and preserved by the Nepali God Vishnu, since the Siva just up the valley is trying to destroy it all and make a fresh start. 

A bit further to the west is where the big guns decided to get together.  Mount Zeus, Thor and Manitou are certainly a powerful sight to see and the fact that a Normans God of War and Greece's Big Boss along with the Great Spirit of North America can all hang out in perfect harmony almost made me want to have another cup of coffee on Nirvana Pass. 

What the world needs is apparently a bit more Pantheon Range. 

We went there to find world class ski mountaineering and we did find it. I took about 10 to 12 hours to drive the 600 miles from Seattle to the Tatla Lake area. Tatla Lake is located in the eastern foothills of the BC Coast Mountains. Mike King from Whitesaddle Air flew us to Nirvana Pass. Nirvana Pass sits right at treeline and there is running water right near camp in the spring. We established a very comfortable base camp and did day tours in the area. The area is amazing, offers ample opportunities for aggressive ski mountaineering, steep skiing, glacier skiing and mellow tree skiing. Many of the significant peaks have been named, but many of the smaller - perfect ski peaks have not. A route description could sound like this. Go up the unnamed valley to the unnamed glacier until you find the no name couloir. This will lead to a zero name col. The unnamed bump is not far from there. Stand up there and be proud that you can identify 5 of the hundreds of peaks you can see.

In a nutshell we spent about 5 days in the area around Nirvana Pass and then moved our camp to a small glacier just south of the Septentrion Spires. 

The area is somewhat reminiscent of the heart of North Cascades National Park, with glacier size, relief and absolute summit height being about the same. There just is a lot of it and the omni present Grizzly tracks certainly add to the wilderness appeal. 

If you ever get a chance to go to the Pantheon Range, you should take the opportunity. It is world class. 

What’s a bella to do?  Switch to hot chocolate, of course.  Which I did.  Except, in northern Italy, the hot chocolate is so thick you can stand a spoon in it, upright and unsupported.  And it is made with real cocoa.  More caffeine.  

It was a Saturday morning, and I was in Lecco, a very cool, very northern Italian town.  As such, I was surrounded by stylish people wearing amazing shoes, walking arm in arm through cobblestone streets below limestone cliffs that rise up to snowy mountains beyond – all on the shores of Lake Como.

I was trying to blend, but I don’t think it was working – my shoes were clearly not Italian, nor my height, nor my hair color.  So I couldn’t exactly be a fly on the wall, but I could sit in one spot for hours and watch, and drink coffee, and…soak it up.  

Italy.  Everything you eat tastes better than the thing before.  Every tiny town clinging to a mountainside has at least one church.  And every time you have a cappuccino, you want another one. 

Most of our group met in Lecco after various run-ins with travel Italian-style (not quite the smooth clockwork of Swiss travel, is it?), and by the time we reached Santa Caterina, the rental mini van was outsized by people and gear.  After the usual last-minute details (trips to the grocery store for gummies, cheese, and cured meat) we drove the windy road to the Forni hut and got checked in.

Note:  henceforth in this trip report I will be referring to the ‘huts’ in Italy.  Erase from your mind the picture of a rustic retreat with plywood floors and pit toilets.  Replace it with images of red-checked tablecloths, warm varnished wood, and the shiny chrome of espresso machines.  And showers.  

The next day – our first day on skis – went something like this:  Wake up.  Eat yummy breakfast.  Drink coffee.  Drink another coffee.  Pack.  Ski tour up to the Branca hut.  Unpack.  Check out sunny balcony.  Drink a cappuccino.  Ski tour up to a small summit above the Branca hut.  Ski down.  Drink wine.  Eat first course (antipasti).  Eat second course (salad).  Eat third course (pasta).  Eat third course again (seconds). Eat main course (meat with something awesome).  Eat main course again (seconds).  Eat dessert.  Drink wine.  Eventually go to bed. 

The days that followed were along the same basic pattern (eat, drink, ski, eat, drink, sleep), but with different activities interspersed.  Summits around 12,000 ft…that you can skin to.  Glaciers everywhere.  Blue skies…then fresh snow.  Then more blue skies, and powder turns in the fresh snow.  Travel to new huts.  Coffee and cake at 10 am on the way to another 12,000 ft summit.  Excellent food every step of the way.  The occasional shower.  The Gran Zebru (12,634 ft).

To try and convey it all, the trip highlights could be divided into categories.  Dining, skiing, and people.  

Dining:  The pasta béchamel we had at the Branca hut.  The discovery of the ultimate après ski beverage, the panache - half beer, half lemon soda (if you think it sounds dodgy, you’ve clearly never had one).  Discovering we could get more pasta in the afternoon after a ski tour and before dinner.  The strudel.  The table wine.  And most of all, the continuous pattern of overcaffeination – all of us at the mercy of the shiny espresso machine.  Martin had two in a row, several times.  Ben, who “doesn’t even drink coffee”, seemed to drink it quite frequently.  

Skiing:  powder turns off the summit of the Palon de la Mare.  Terri’s first 12,000 footer on skis.  Getting blasted by wind on the Monte Pasquale, then descending in thigh-high powder from the col as another group skinned up…and wished they were us.  The long ski descent from the summit of Monte Cevedale, from powder, through chop, down into smooth corn to the hut.  Kick turn lessons and skinning sessions…right, Wayne?  

And the people.  Our group was completely normal, of course.  Blending right in.  Not sticking out like the German guy wearing skin-tight quilted baby blue bibs circa 1981.  Never mind that we were a mix of giants (er, tall people) and telemarkers (neither of which seem to be common in Italy) that asked for seconds, thirds, and even fourths at dinner.  Compared to the tanned Austrian guy with the turquoise pantsuit who started yodeling after dinner one night – really good yodeling, mind you – we were looking pretty ordinary:  tanned, happy, drinking red wine and telling stories before, during, and after dinner.  

Viva Italia.  

The following descent down the steep south face was about a perfect as it gets. Avy hazard zero; weather perfect; incline 45 degrees, snow conditions - white corn. By noon we were back down at the car. Perfect day. 

Our trip started in the town of Molde. The area around Molde is dominated by the enormous Romsdalfjorden. Here we got onto our boat in the afternoon of the 26th of March and made our way across the bay or Vestnes. On our day we toured up a peak called Ytstetinden (1162 meters). The climb was quite simple, though some touchy depth hoar was waiting for us on the steep summit slope.

After the tour we transferred to Andalsnes. One could describe Andalsnes as somewhat of a Norwegain Outdoor mecca. Anything from fishing, hiking, sailing, mountaineering, skiing, ice climbing, bigwall climbing is possible from here. There is some tourism, but the development is a far cry from the resorts in the Alps. This might have something to do with the fact that the only coffee shop in town does not open until 10 am!!!!!! But more about that later. 

Our trip was car assisted. This allowed us to drive the short distance to Innfjorden the next day and start touring at a whopping 40 meters above sea level. Our objective was the famous Skjervan at about 1500 meters. Once above timberline at around 450 meters, the terrain started looking alpine quite quickly and the ski tour as a whole is absolutely outrageous. There was a little bit of climbing to get to the true summit, the skinning had some challenges, skiing was great and of course the view down to the Fjord was amazing.

The next day the weather was bad. This was especially impact full, since the only coffee shop in Andalsnes did not open until 10 am.!!!!!!!!  We ended up driving up the road to the famous "Trollwall", which is to be said the biggest wall in Norway. Who knows, but it sure seemed like a big objective.

In the afternoon, we transferred to a bay near the hamlet of Mandalen. The next morning we toured up the valley to summit Kaldtinden (Coldmountain) at 1115 meters.  We found our way back off that cold mountain. Our Spanish cook Maria del Mar would always wait with coffee, cheese, crackers etc. for our return. The bay of Vagsbukta put us into position for our last tour. We went fishing a bit and this is where the clients started to loose some of that hard earned respect for me.. The weather had turned excellent and quite cold. Everybody was fit, conditions were good. Let's let the pictures speak for themselves.

Mike Hattrup and Jake Peters had had too much breakfast that day, so they ended up touring up Trolltinden as well to make it a solid 7000 foot day. We could have totally done it, we just did not want to. 

All in all the coastal mountains of Norway offer great ski touring. Coupled with the fjords, the boat and the people of Norway it becomes a world class experience. We will do it again. Thank you Paul, Jake, Trina, Holly, Peter and Gayle for going along with our crazy ideas. 

Maybe Spitzbergen next time.. Ever heard of it?

McClellan's Butte (5162 feet) is a prominent peak in the upper Snoqualmie Valley and can be seen on the south side of Interstate 90 at around Milepost 40. We were not able to find out if this line had been skied previously. If you have any info regarding this descent, please send it to martin@proguiding.com. 

The ski descent offered almost 2900 feet of fall line skiing. The steepness ranged from 45 degrees at the top to around 30 degrees in the lower section. The first turns off the summit are a bit exposed and good snow stability assessment is crucial for the entire tour. 

We think that when in condition the descent is a better one than the North Couloir descent since it offers more open skiing, a descent off the true summit and a longer run. 

Equipment needed:

Standard ski touring equipment, maybe a Rando Rope, alu crampons, harness and a light ice axe for the summit section. 

Here is how you get there: Take Exit 38 off I-90 East bound and follow the road up the valley. Just before you get to the Freeway entrance turn off onto a dirt road and drive up this road until the road turns south at around 2200 feet. You will most likely have to park here. 

The tour:

Tour up the road for about 1.5 kilometers until the road makes a U-turn to the left. Leave the road here and skin up along Alice Creek until you come to a very obvious opening at around 2360 feet. Look up to the right. This is your objective. 

Tour up this slide path until you get to about 4200 feet. Now turn South South-West until you reach a wooded shoulder at around 4700 feet. (You are basically following the summer trail now) Go around the shoulder completely until your bearing is North North East (still following the summer trail). Stay just under the ridge until you can gain it about 200 meters South South-West from the summit. Now follow the short distance to the summit. (About 3 to 4 hours from the car) 

From the summit ski slightly skiers right for about 300 feet of vertical between the cliffs below you and a rocky outcropping to your right. Keep skiing slightly right for another couple hundred feet and then straight down the obvious path back to 2360 feet (about 5 hours car to car). 

Considerations: This tour has for the most part a south-easterly aspect and therefore gets a lot of sun. An early start is imperative. Conversely - a freeze melt cycle can turn the summit section into a committing descent, if the top slope is still frozen. We would imagine that the currently very attractive slope could turn ugly in lower snow years. 

At all times is good snow stability assessment of the utmost importance.