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An Attempt on Mt. Mendel |
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by Ray Purcell |
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| I was sitting in the Bishop Grill (under new ownership) and feeling surreal.� Yup, there I was drooling over a huge shroom and Swiss cheese burger like I'd been starving in the desert, and feeling full-on-Salvador Dali-dripping watch surreal.� Of course I'd been up since three in the morning.�� My friend Scott and I got an alpine start on an attempt at the summit of Mt. Mendel via the right couloir. |
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| Our odyssey began two days before when we started up from the trailhead at North Lake destined for Lamark Col. The planning started about six months before; that's when I'd mentioned wanting to do some more alpine routes to my friend Scott.� He can describe a climb with an �lan that would attract an acrophobic to a big wall in Patagonia.� So anyway, Scott tells me about a mixed route up the right couloir on Mt. Mendel that's just fantastic- I was sold.� The guides typically recommend this route be done in August, but being a lean snow year we figured June would be our best shot especially since picking our way a thousand feet up a boulder and scree slope would just bite. |
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| We started the trip with an appetizer of two days of decadent sport climbing in Clark's Canyon.� Monday we got up and leisurely sipped coffee before heading down to Bishop to dutifully get our wilderness permit.� We got up to the trailhead at North Lake about noon.� Latter in the year when the snow has melted off of Lamark Col folks do this in a single day hump.� We decided to break the ascent into two days to avoid post holing up to our butts in slushy snow over the Col. This plan was particularly attractive to me since it had been five years since I had backpacked sans skis, and even longer since I had shouldered a pack close to half of my 140 pound body weight. |
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| The mosquitoes seemed to sense the soon-to-be-dry summer, and attended to us as soon as we parked.� They did have the decency to be partially repelled by our high test OFF, but I found myself pushing a too fast pace to outrun the mosquito zone, and to keep up with Scott-who is an absolute trail animal.� I shortly felt hot spots in my boots that corresponded to blisters that demanded ritual dressing changes.� |
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| I usually don't start to physically feel altitude until about 12,000-feet, but the trailhead is about 10,000-feet, the pack was way heavy, and the trail wasted no time gaining altitude.� Above Lower Lamark Lake we turned off of the main trail, and on to the cross-country route to Lamark Col.�� the trail became more irregular and in spots highly featured and bouldery.� I began to experience a trance like state in which I contemplated the experiences of Job; the gold standard in accepting suffering with grace.� At times like this I wonder why I travel in to the wilderness.� For clarity I reflect on the twentieth century sailor and philosopher who said "I ams who I ams".� |
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| About the time I felt like I was in the belly of the whale (whoops, I'm mixing scripture and metaphor) we hit camp.� Dinner is far too important a meal on the trail and ramen noodles just won't do.� Fortunately Scott is like-minded and though he leans to the vegetarian and wholesome he is corruptible.� Tonight's fare consisted of noodles in a sour cream sauce with some sausage and diced apple.� Thoroughly "wedged'" night fell and shortly after I drowsed off and slept the sleep of the just. |
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| The next morning we saddled up to tackle several snowfields.� The early morning found the snow firm and just softening.� Though a grunt we finally gained the col at late morning.� Lamark Col is a breath-taking pass.� Not just because of its elevation of approximately 13,000 feet, but visually it opens over both Mt. Darwin and Mendel.� Just gaining the pass felt like summiting.� After some time to admire the view, and to congratulate ourselves, we made our way down to camp. |
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| We arrived about time for lunch and had a good bit of day ahead of us.� We set up a lean to so we could get comfortable and protect ourselves from the relentless high altitude sun.� The afternoon past leisurely: while reading, snoozing, and marveling at the incredible North Face of Mt. Mendel.� For dinner we suffered through a salmon coucous with olive oil and then went to bed. |
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| Three O'clock came disorientingly early, and I don't remember much except Scott going to war with a really bold rodent that came after his breakfast.� He hit the thing on the head with a stick, but the rodent just shook its head and continued it's advance on his Grape nuts.� Guided by headlamp I stumbled down the rocky slope to the lake at the base of our climb.� There was amazingly little snow down low and we had to thread our way back up through a steep boulder and scree field. |
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| Gratefully we gained the snowfield and roped up to simulclimb the first quarter of the route.� We started to belay at the first ice, which accepted our ice tools reassuringly.� The second pitch was similarly positive but the third, which was the first pure ice pitch, through us a curve.� Scott stepped out from the belay and each strike off his ice tool brought down a brace of ice shards.� Several moves required repeated blows with his tools and kicks with his crampons to get situated.� As I watched him step up again, dinner plate sized flakes of ice were flying off his picks, and it sounded like glass shattering.� Then there was a sickening sound which reminded me of glass being cut; a horizontal and vertical crack had opened up from one of Scott's blows.� Scott looked thoughtful and after a few moments said "I just don't have a good feeling about this." |
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That was good enough for me, especially since this was my first water ice climb.� The rappel off the ice was slowed by the single rope and necessitated leaving three of Scott?s ice screws before we could begin the down climb.� Once off the snowfield, and after lunch, a retreat over Lamark Col sounded like a good idea.� After we crossed the Col it seemed like a good idea to just head back to Bishop.� I was a little reluctant to pass up just one more night by a beautiful glacial lake, besides I was still carrying a full dinner and one of our two pints of beer, but the prospect of not having to put on my boots again the next morning won out- call me a wus.� |
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A cloud of mosquitoes was waiting at North Lake that was like a biblical plague.� God couldn't have been that pissed at the Egyptians since he only sent locusts.� We literally ran the last quarter mile to the car, having dropped our packs at the trailhead to out run the swarm.� We drove back to our packs and in a maneuver that would have impressed a Navy Seal, and extracted our packs from the drop zone.� I didn't stop the truck until we were back in the desert. |
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So there I was mowing this burger at nine at night in a slice of Americana cafe.� Eighteen hours earlier we stated the day with Grape Nuts and a rodent fight; climbed two thirds of Mt. Mendel, one third in the dark; retreated over the Col, hiked back to the car and; endured a mosquito scourging.� I'm lucky all I feel is surreal.� Then it dawns on me; one of the reasons I do this is because it feels so good to stop. |
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June, 2001 |
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