|
|||||||||||||
"As in any alpine region, the weather is changeable, protection questionable, route-finding bewildering, rockfall frequent and descents tedious. In short, it's everything you could ever ask for." — from the Canadian Alpine Journal, 1993. Day 3. We awake to great conditions and break camp, immediately debating where we’re going to drop onto the Carbon Glacier. I recall some early route drawings and remember them running fairly high on the glacier under the Willis Wall. When I first saw them I wanted no part of being that close to the base of the wall. Now, however, as I preview the route, I can see what looks like plenty of run out room between the bottom of the wall and crevasses we want to avoid. Thinking we’re still under 7000 feet, and remembering that Neal's route indicated dropping into the Carbon Glacier between 7200 and 7400, I advocate heading a bit further up the ridge to find the drop-in point and avoid some nasty looking crevasses just below us at the base of the ridge. We agree, based on the premise that we’re under 7000, and climb the ridge only to find ourselves higher than we thought. At this point Neal breaks out the GPS and determines our elevation to be above 7400. The campsite, at about 7200, had been the correct drop in point, so we discuss rapping down the cliff face to save time. I look at the possible rap route from above and don’t feel good about it. Our 60-meter rope will only let us make 30-meter raps, and the cliff face looks far too long for that. I also think I see a vertical band of rock further down and I don’t like the possibility that someone could rap off the edge of that and get stuck hanging at the end of the rope. We agree to head back the way we came. I already have my pack on and start down in front of the other two. Before I know it, Neal powers by me on a lower line with Isaac not far behind. It takes less than 20 minutes to get back where we started and begin to gear up for the glacier. Isaac grabs a gaiter out of the cache to compensate for a torn gaiter on his boot. As we drop onto the glacier, Isaac comments that we’ve been an hour-and-a-half off route. Time to get moving. Glaciers are Neal's forte, so he takes the lead as we pick our way through the center left side of the glacier. Along the way I spot some great opportunities to take some pictures of both Neal and Isaac on the glacier, with Liberty Ridge above us, so I shout ahead for Neal to drop the camera bag in the snow so I can pick it up when I pass and get some shots. As we move along, Neal suggests using more of our wands in case we needed to come back this way. We’ve already marked two caches with them and in retrospect, the rocks beside the caches would have been fine as markers. We should have saved the wands for the route itself and not the caches. At any rate, I mark the edges of crevasses as we go right up the left center of the gut of the glacier. During a short break, Neal gives Isaac a lesson on finding crevasses the proper way and Isaac takes the lead. He skirts a large “jumble” of glacier fall to the left and takes us across our first snow bridge and around the edges of one or two more crevasses. We stop for another short break and that’s where my last wand must have fallen out. We are fairly high on the glacier and I’m wishing we had those three extra wands. We talk about how to get through the remaining crevasses, examine a couple of longer routes (one high and one low), but eventually make a decision on a more direct middle route that will give us access to Liberty Ridge on its lower left side without giving up a lot of elevation. Neal leads and does a masterful job of finding crevasses and stable snow bridges. We help guide him a bit from higher vantage points to find a safe way to gain the Ridge. Neal then belays Isaac over a bridge to himself as I gather up slack and set a boot belay for Isaac’s crossing. I follow Isaac across and put another layer back on because it’s starting to get colder. After a short discussion on route options, Neal chooses to head straight to a rock off to our right, then up to a break in the rock band that looks like a likely entrance to the Ridge. I suggest that heading down and right might be easier (the route I had previously seen in photos on the plane), but Neal apparently feels confident and decides not to give up any altitude. He maneuvers over the rock band towards the right side of the Ridge – the side we intend to ascend – and Isaac moves up to give him a belay. I get to stay below a crevasse in the shade, waiting for the rope to start moving. I expect to eventually move into the lead as we enter the Ridge in case we encounter unseen technical climbing. In the meantime, Neal continues to lead out. After awhile, the rope stops moving and I find myself just standing, getting a bit cold. I decide to move up to Isaac’s position and check in. The wind is picking up and we shout to each other, “Is he ok,” I ask Isaac. “I don't know,” he replies. "The rope isn't moving and Neal isn't replying." We both yell as loud as we can but get no response from Neal. “I better go check on him,” I say. “Let’s switch positions.” Isaac ties me a butterfly just above his belay tool and I clip in and start untying my knot on the end so I can give it to him. Suddenly the rope goes taut against my harness as Neal suddenly starts moving again. “Slack,” he yells. I am still rapidly untying my knot and yell back, “one sec!” He sternly shouts back, “I am hanging from the rock!” I push forward to give him a bit of slack and, as Isaac urges me to move, slip the knot off my harness and quickly move down the slope. It’s steeper than I think. In fact, it’s a bit steep for the plunge step I am using and I need to flip around and do a mini self-arrest. I start climbing across the bottom of the rock band with my boots in the snow and hands on the crumbly volcanic rock. I don’t have good thoughts about putting pro in this stuff and as I’m following Neal's path, I think he has been doing fairly well for being on lead with only Isaac as his only anchor. I settle down into the snow a bit more and rely on the crumbly rock a bit less. Now, don’t get me wrong, I like rock – in fact, I love rock. Not being able to rely on it makes me uncomfortable. I carefully test each rock before I use it as a hold. More than once now what I think is going to be a solid hold just pulls away and I end up tossing it down the steep slope below me to the Carbon Glacier hundreds of feet below. At any rate, I can see why the Ridge becomes what is described as a bowling alley during the warmer months when this route is “in season.” Neal yells down from above that he has me on belay. Well, this is a first; I am on belay from both ends! If I wasn't totally relaxed with Isaac belaying me by himself, I am now. I finish my traverse and find that Neal has gone up a small rock chute with snow and ice on it. I use my axe and gloves to work my way up the chute, thinking Neal has done a pretty good job on point without any pro placements or a lot of technical rock climbing experience. I find him in a seated belay position with a nice big rock between his legs. There’s not a lot of room so I dig out a platform with my ice axe adze and take a seat. As Isaac moves into view I point out a bigger patch of rock for him to head to so we can switch rope positions. We are finally on Liberty Ridge! It is now my turn to do some leading. While this part of the Ridge isn’t really all that technical, it feels good to lead. I grab some pickets and head off, feeling mildly miffed that we’re a bit off the route. Looking at the route pictures, I had pictured us entering the Ridge from lower, then moving further right and heading fairly straight up a snow field, then coming back to the Ridge proper a bit higher up. With this stuck in my head I feel like I should be climbing further to the right. Telling this to Isaac confuses him a bit and he disagrees, but shrugs it off as I keep climbing. I place my first picket about 125 feet up, then find a boulder and sling the rope over it using it as a running belay. I place my second picket, at which point two things are running through my head. One, I am indeed on route and probably need to apologize to Isaac for being grumpy, so I do. Second, I don't think we need to keep placing pickets because the random terrain features (rock outcropping or boulder) are more than sufficient. I keep climbing, struggling through moderately deep snow where anything under the knees is fine and relatively easy to move through, but anything above the knees is hard and taking its toll on me. In the deep stuff, it’s hard to get your feet under you as the snow keeps sliding away. I push up alongside the rocks, wanting to stay away from the open slopes. But the open slopes are easier to move through because they have considerably less snow on them. I use them when I can. After about 500' of altitude gain I ask Isaac if he wants a turn on the lead. He happily takes it up and pushes his way through the deep snow. I really start feeling the altitude at this point and begin using the rest step: step up, pause on my straight leg, breath, roll forward and use momentum to gain the next step. To borrow a phrase from the shampoo industry, “Lather, rinse and repeat.” Isaac is performing well, but I figure it’s my turn again, so I try to catch up to him as I yell for a break and a lead change. However, every time I get some slack on him and start gaining, he moves back ahead. I figure he’s doing fine being able keep ahead of me while simultaneously breaking trail, so I give up trying to make the switch. All this time the Thumb is coming slowly closer and closer. We turn a bit left and I look up the final snow slope to the Thumb. It’s much farther than it looks and probably will be the hardest bit of climbing yet. I think, “Is this damn slope ever going to end?” The deep snow makes it way harder and to paraphrase an immortal Star Trek line: “Dammit, Jim, I am a climber, not a snow plow!” I am feeling the effects of the altitude and get a bit nervous thinking that I’m going to be leading ice at nearly 14,000 feet with a pack on my back. I have climbed some WI4 with a pack on and it kills me fast. I just hope it’s not that steep up there. Isaac clears the top and gains the small flat spot just above the Thumb. With the rope slack between my legs, I slow down to take more breaths per step, figuring that killing myself just before the bivy site is not necessary. I finally gain the site tired but happy. Neal gains the Thumb and immediately goes into “establish camp” mode. We dig the tent parts out of our packs and assemble the tent. At this point, Isaac isn't looking so good. He finally doubles over and empties the contents of his stomach into the snow at 10,400 feet. I think, “This can't be good” as Neal tells Isaac to get in the tent and take it easy. We toss in pads and sleeping bags and Isaac tries to get some rest. After a while we climb in the tent with Isaac. Isaac and I have our heads on one end and Neal is at the vestibule end melting snow. Isaac asks about the tent opening by his head, saying he might get sick again, and then suddenly shouts, “open the door!” I grab the zipper tabs and pull as he desperately asks, “Where can I throw up?” I blurt out “Left side, left side!” After Isaac cleans the cellars for a few minutes with his head outside the tent, I ask, “did you get the boots?” Happily he’s managed to miss all the boots. At this point we don’t think Isaac has AMS, but rather has been pushing too hard on too little food and too little water. He remains pretty sick, though, throwing up two more times and missing the boots both times. He doesn’t want to eat dinner because he might throw it up and waste our precious calories. We try to get him to keep some water down and re-hydrate himself, and finally decide to burn another day at Thumb rock and give him a rest. It means stretching two days of food to three, but that doesn’t seem like a big deal.
|
|
||||||||||||