I think I have a little of Fred Beckey in me. I like to think up and plan out secret little climbing projects, and execute them with some select friends. I know why Beckey has his black book and keeps is safe from prying eyes; in the competetive world of Alpine Climbing first ascents you have to guard your ideas and plans so you stay on top of the game. Alas, I don't have enough Beckey in me to actually carry through with my Grand Plans (or so I would find out).
My secret project this year, that I let grow and fester safe from my friends, even my partner's, ears, was a North to South traverse of the Picket Range. Hey, if Alex Bertulis could do it in '62 or whatever, it couldn't be that hard, right? I should know that even though I share the name, I am not Alex Bertulis.
The plan was actually quite simple. Go in over Whatcom Pass, up and over Challenger, to Pickett Pass, Picket Pass, and then through the great Southern Picket wall either over Ottohorn Col or right over the North Face of Terror. That would be killer! I would be the envy of my climbing peers! To not only bag a traverse, but to nail stuff like Challenger, Fury, and Terror all in one trip was too good to be true.
When we dropped off Maurice's van in Newhalem, it was raining. Things didn't look that great at the moment, except for a clearing trend along the coast and a good forecast. We busted a move back to Bellingham for dinner (Casa Que Pasa and Cuervo 1800) and then up to Glacier. We hadn't signed in with the rangers for this trip, which made us a little nervous. So in the morning we wasted some hours at the ranger station while they figured out what "zones" we woule be in while we traversed the spine of the North Cascades. We were so hard! A little concerned when the rangers could not give us info on trail conditions, since no one had been in yet this year, but that was of little consequence!
The first day went well. We motored over Hannegan Pass with heavy, ungainly packs (Maurice had insisted we bring rock shoes and a full rack for the North Ridge of Fury) and made it to US Cabin. There sure was a lot of snow! I worried already that my boots would not be up to the task...I was wearing my "mileage" boots, not my plastics. No matter. Day two found us moving down the Chilliwack to Brush Creek, then up to Whatcom Pass. We were there by 2 pm, and with the Pass came our first view of Challenger and the virgin Northern Pickets, ripe for plunder by two hardmen like us!
Day three found us traversing around Whatcom Peak on very steep snow above death slabs. It was not really that fun, especially as I was now painfully aware that my boots were not stiff enough for this kind of work. The traverse went an hour over schedule, and we found ourselves at Perfect Pass at 9:15. From there we declined to rope up and worked our way up the Challenger Glacier's right edge to the West-Middle Peak col. Here we dropped our packs and dropped our jaws, too. It was our first view of the Picket Range and our intended route.
While we both stewed on the massive spectacle lay bare before us, the jumbled glaciers and cornice-threatened passes, the serious vertical and steep slopes, we roped up for a "quick" nail of Challenger itself. We dumped our gear at the col and went to Challneger's summit, while high cirrus and grey clouds started blotting out Baker and Shuksan, and shading us on the glacier. Hum. On the summit ridge we encountered the "solid rock" that Beckey and Jim Nelson describe. It wasn't really solid, at least not what I remembered as defined as solid. I led the short 5.5 step in my leather boots, deathly afraid that the small block I was weighting would teeter and fall straight off the mountain. We summitted and got out of there quickly.
There was no sun now, and the snow had turned to oatmeal. I was glad to be back on the glacier, away from the unaccustomed exposure and "solid rock" of the summit. We plodded back to the col, silent. I voiced my concern about the weather, looking for an excuse. But even then I could see the clearing in the West - this was only a weak system and would be gone by day's end. We got to the col and decided to have a look at the decent. It looked ok....as we ranged our eyes along the proposed path we would take to traverse the West side of the Northern Pickets, we ticked off each landmark in our mind's maps. There was Crooked Thumb, there was Phantom with its steep ridge that we would have to traverse around, and there was Pickett Pass....
"Holy Shit! Thats Two-T Pass!" exclaimed Maurice. It looked ugly, threatened by rockfall, cornices, and very steep on its Northern slope. It dawned on us that, with variable weather, lots more snow than expected, and no possible escape routes, we might be in for a bit more of a haul than we bargained for. I was pretty impressed by the sights and potential for serious fucking-up. I think we both resolved at that point to not commit to the traverse. It was scary! Maurice didn't like Two-T pass and I didn't like the weather, my lack of adequate footwear, and the lack of escape routes. We bailed.
We headed back down the glacier's edge to a place we had scoped out on the way up as a potential bivy site. We set up the Bibler at 6700, on the edge of the glacier, and cooked and zoned out. It was and is still difficult to describe how I felt about baiing out on my Grand Plan. I wasn't a hard man. I was just a computer-puke weekend warrior soft from sitting on his ass and writing buggy code. Maurice wasn't a hardman, this was his first alpine trip this year and his emotions were a bit off due to problems at home. We were both just getting old.
Day four was a rest day. It was chilly and constantly windy. We lounged around in the sun and started eating our food stash, as it was now obvious that we would have a day or two extra food. Maurice and I had both gotten some sunburn, so we applied every few hours in order to prevent further damage. I wrote a bit in my journal and quietly mourned my sad state as a climber.
Day Five dawned calm and we motored over West-Middle col to try Crooked Thumb. Hell, if we weren't going to traverse the range, we would at least get some summits! We got to the base of Crooked Thumb's Northwest route, and the gully to the notch looked shitty so we opted for a notch further along the North ridge. It looked like it should be a casual affair of a few fourth class pitches, albeit cold and in the shade at 7,500 feet. I started out an immediately realized, once again, that I was no longer on nice solid rock, but rather I was climbing a veritable choss-pile. We did some meandering fourth and low fifth over some serious exposure on manky rock, simulclimbing, until we finally reached the chasm that was the notch where the normal Northwest route approached. Maurice wanted to continue, to rap into the chasm and go to the summit, only a few hundred yards away. The rock by now was really scaring me, and I backed off. We went down.
I felt like crap, I had backed off something Beckey has climbed in 1940. I sucked. Maurice told me not to beat nmyself up over it, that he was just happy to be in the mountains. We had, after all, done more rock climbing on our variation to the notch than we would have had we gone from the real notch to the summit. I hated the rock here. I was too scared, too unused to exposure and alpine movement to get psyched for a teetering chosspile. Maurice maintained that yes, the rock sucked, but what we were here for was a summit and you just had to grim and bear it. I thought it was about fun, so I didn't know how to feel anymore. We marched back to the West-Middle col.
On the way back down the glacier we saw some tracks that were not ours! We were not alone! We lounged around camp waiting for whoever it was to get off the summit, but as the afternoon wore on we started thinking they might have gone to Challenger Arm, and not the summit. Just then, a group of four popped up over a rise not far from camp. I recognized Tim Matsui, who I knew from working at REI, and the rest of his group. They were on their way to Luna Creek Cirque for 6 days. We wished them luck....they had aspirations for the North Ridge on Fury but Maurice and I had seen it from Challenger and it was out of shape.
The weather was changing. The wind had shifted from the West to the Southwest, and the clear day had become hazy. We packed it up on day six and bailed back across Whatcom to Whatcom Pass, then down to the Chilliwack River. On we marched, trying to put more miles in to make for a shorter day 7. That night, fatigued and exhausted, we crashed at Copper Creek camp and ate raw Ramen noodles.
Day 7 dawned with rain. The skies had become lead grey and Hannegan was in the clouds. The trudge out over Hannegan was a mixture of relief - for getting out with only one day of bad weather - and tiredness. We had been educated on this trip, our shoulders and legs were sore. I got soaked on the decent off Hannegan, and by the time I got back to the van a few hours later I was on the verge of hypothermia. It was good to be out.
But I can't wait to go back in!