Drury Falls from Falls Creek drainage at dawn.
The idea to climb Drury Falls, as all such little adventures, had a long genesis. I had been talking to both Dan and Scott for some time about climbing various things, and Dan and I had been climbing together a few times, hunting down the local ice. On separate occaisions both had told me that wanted to take a stab at Drury, and in our own ways we had all mentally taken stabs at it. Dan had been there the previous weekend, on his way to Banks Lake, and had scoped out the Wenatchee River crossing. I had gotten permission from a friend to use his rubber dinghy. So when Scott proposed we try Drury in an email, I was game. When he asked me if I could lead the hard pitches, I was not so sure, but I knew Dan had styled all the hard things I had seen him tackle, and I also knew Dan wanted to try Drury.
We decided that all of us wanted to try to do it in a day. We are all fast climbers, and knew that even a route as long as Drury should not pose any time problems given good conditions and the reported fat ice. Our resolve was strengthened by the reports of others who had climbed it in the previous weeks. We were willing to risk the trecherous Wenatchee River crossing in the dark if need be, to avoid carrying bivy gear. We also knew that, because of the reports of successful ascents, we would likely not be alone in our desire to climb this Washington classic, and that an early start and approach blitz would be necessary to beat anyone else who was trying it.
The fateful morning arrived, and we met like crack dealers at 4 am in a Fred Meyer parking lot somewhere in the Seattle area. All three of us arrived literally in the same minute, a good sign. We introduced ourselves and packed Scott's Escort full of sharp ice climbing gear, snowshoes and rubber raft. The drive over to Leavenworth was dark and uneventful. When we got there we all piled out, and started scouting out the river crossing and getting the boat ready. We were keenly aware of the cars passing by, praying that none of them would stop and disgorge a number of similarly suited climbers. That would mean an all out unabashed race to the ice. As dawn revealed the river, we loaded the raft and silently paddled over to the far side. It was surprisingly easy. We unloaded the raft, pulled it up on the bank, and proceeded to follow the beaten trail through the trees and up an open shrubby slope to where the drainage constricted. Drury Falls and the Pencil were in clear view, looking very close.
Drury Falls from Falls Creek drainage at dawn.
Indeed, we arrived at the first pitch of ice less than an hour from the river. We had expected a 3 hour approach, with the first ice at 4200 elevation, but this was 3700. No one else was around and we had the place to ourselves. Here, a nice full pitch of lower grade ice beckoned us upward. Scott voiced his discomfort at soloing but said he would give it a go. Dan and I both soloed the pitch, and Scott made it about halfway up before he asked for a rope from above. We got it to him and belayed him up the rest of the way, then moved onto the next pitch, several hundred feet higher. Next, I led a nice 60m pitch of WI3 to the top of the pitch, and within striking distance of the upper pitches of Drury Falls. The ice was fun and plastic, ambling lower angle stuff with steeper steps. I belayed both Scott and Dan up simultaneously, using a GiGi. Another time saving effort.
Scott Beverige and Dan Erickson solo the first pitch of Drury Falls.
We hiked up to the right hand base of the upper falls, it was just past 11. The sun shone brilliantly in a cloudless sky, while in Tumwater the clouds had begun to gather and consolidate. In a short while, Dan was starting the first pitch on the upper tier, above a sea of clouds. The sun was baking, it was so hot Scott was climbing without a shirt. A beautiful steep line, Dan lead the first 25m comfortably on 2 screws. He climbed up more steep ground and set up a quasi-hanging belay, from which he belayed both Scott and then me. When I arrived at the belay, we resolved that we wanted to stay on the right hand side of the route, as it was more interesting and steeper. But we had to move the belay a little out of the drop zone, so we messed around for 20 minutes re-organizing the belay in a different location.
Dan lead the second pitch, in the hopes that the rope would reach the top. The line remained steep, and he almost made it, but not quite. I came up second this time, and we decided hurridly that time was growing short, it was now around 3:30, and we needed to get up and off as fast as possible to have as much light as possible to get down. So Dan lead the last 15m to the top, to a tree belay and tied me off while I belayed Scott up the long second pitch. All told, the upper tier was exactly 140m. Scott came up and joined me at the last hanging belay. He had been very patient but had been getting cold.
It was getting colder fast. By the time we topped out the temperature had plumetted from the balmy afternoon temps in the 50s to well below freezing. We were all wearing everything we had, and all our gloves were soaked and frozen from the wet work. After Scott topped out, we silently ate some food, broke down the belays, and coiled and racked for decent. It was after 4 and we had little light left, despite our realtively speedy ascent. We had one headlamp between the three of us to get us back to our packs, which were left at the base of the first pitch I had lead.
The rappels that ensued were neither well developed or easy to perform, especially in the dark. Several long, free rappels brought us to lower angled terrain, but it was a long time, filled with alot of work by starlight and a somewhat faulty headlamp, before we found our packs. We rapped off trees, half-slung directional boulders, and icicles backed up by v-threads to get down. The clouds had risen to the base of the upper tier, so the work was especially difficult in the dense clouds below the upper tier. Finally, we made it back to the packs. Dan and I dug out our Petzls, and Dan promptly realized his was out of battery juice, and no one had a spare. Still, our decent proceeeded.
Alex Krawarik leads the second pitch of Drury Falls.
One more rap got us to the start of the scrambling and hiking terrain below the climb. We headed down through the dark, dreading the decision to cross the river should the clouds be low enough to fog the opposite bank. Crossing in the dark would be hard enough, but the idea crossing without the headlamps being any use in pea-soup fog made me pause. Eventually we climbed both out of the clouds and down to the river, picking up stashed snowshoes on the way. It was 10:30 at night, and we were so close to home no one really gave crossing the river a second thought. It was something that had to be done, as we all were too tired and fatigued to think that spending a night out in the open waiting for daylight was a good idea. The river crossing was uneventful, and before we knew it we were deflating the raft and packing the car.
A quick trip to Leavenworth let all of us get some eats and Scott get some coffee for the drive back. He was tired but awake, a self-proclaimed caffeine abstainer, so he figured a strong coffee would keep him awake for days. I slept some on the drive back, but it was after 3 am when I rolled into my driveway. A 24-hour day.
